


The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

by Kittytoastnjam



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blasphemy, Communication, Daichi Works Hell Retail, Deal with a Devil, Depressed Sugawara Koushi, Faustian Bargain, Firsts, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gotta meet that Soul Quota, Hell is a Business, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overworking, Slow Burn, Sugawara Koushi-centric, Teacher Sugawara Koushi, The Devil is a Sneaky Bastard, Therapy, Unrequited Love, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 61,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittytoastnjam/pseuds/Kittytoastnjam
Summary: It was only a kiss. A kiss he’d been saving for Tōru. Tōru, who didn’t- wouldn’t ever- love him like he did Iwaizumi. Unbidden tears beaded in the corners of his eyes as the reminder settled back into chest, heavy and raw. The point of being out here chasing myths on the dredges of desperation, heartache and alcohol was to forget Tōru. What was a kiss, in the grand scheme? Suga sniffed, then sighed, “Fine. Three years of whatever I ask for, in exchange for my rainy day booze stash, my first kiss, and my immortal soul. Donezo.” He gestured at Daichi to come at him with a false bravado, but it was dashed instantly at the predatory gleam in Daichi’s eyes.“Three years of service for your soul,” the devil echoed as he slid one hand around Suga’s back.***People cope with their heartache in all kinds of ways: they cry to their friends; binge drink; get haircuts; go on vacation.Most people don’t decide to sell their souls to the devil, but maybe Suga has always had a little flair for the dramatic.He’s got three years to live it up before the devil who has contracted his soul drags him off to hell. His kind, sensitive, unfairly hot devil...
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Sugawara Koushi/Hyakuzawa Yuudai
Comments: 37
Kudos: 65





	1. Month 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to a retelling of Faust by Goethe, the song The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie by Colter Wall, and my husband marathoning twelve seasons of Supernatural, and thus was this story born. 
> 
> Originally it was gonna be KuroKen, with Kenma selling his soul to jumpstart his gaming career so he could fund Hinata’s Brazil training, but Hinata not loving him and generally being all reminiscent of Madoka Magica’s Sayaka. But, no disrespect, I kinda don’t feel KuroKen, and even if it would probably make a more dynamic story, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed writing it as much. If someone else feels that prompt with KuroKen, please have at it!
> 
> I know Suga as the devil seems like the obvious choice, but I think this is fun ;) It spans several years so the chapters and sections may read more like stand alone bits.

MONTH 1

The weak spread of the bike light flooded the crossroads in yellow. Sugawara Kōshi took a moment to orient himself, retrieved the small box from his hoodie pocket, then killed the light. Eyes adjusted and drifted to the magnificent spray of stars in the sky above him, and he wondered why it took him making a deal with the devil to see them. He promised himself he’d make another trip: it seemed a shame to waste whatever time he had left confined to the urban jungle.

With the box clasped firmly in hand, he stumbled his way to the center of the dirt crossroads. “Oi, Devil-sama,” he called. “If you exist, I’d like to make a deal.” There were a few minutes where the only sound was the cool spring wind. Not even the slight buzz of vodka he’d ingested to make this trip plausible could eliminate the deep feeling of foolishness that was taunting him from the back of his thoughts. Still, Suga checked the time on his phone with an impatient huff and shook the contents of the box for good measure. “Yo, it’s already two after midnight. I know there can’t be a God, but if there is a Devil then you should know being late is really unprofessional.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry about the wait,” a voice apologized from behind him. Suga whirled with a yelp. Where before was nothing stood a young man. Handsome and chiseled, he was Suga’s height but where Suga was lean and wiry, this man was clearly muscled beneath his tailored charcoal suit. He was tightening a crimson tie, smoothing it below his jacket and clipping it into place as he explained, “We haven’t had anyone do this the old school way in a while, so I was caught a bit off guard.” The devil slicked back his dark hair, exhaled, then straightened with a crooked grin. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Uh,” Suga said intelligently. When he continued to stare with no further words, the devil raised a questioning eyebrow. There was a small smirk growing on his face that spurred Suga’s speech. “Sorry, I just,” he stammered when the devil chuckled. “I didn’t expect you to look like… that.” 

The besuited man shrugged, though his expression looked more satisfied by the second. “Well, it’s better for business,” he offered simply. “Also, you should know, I’m not so much _The_ Devil as I am _a_ devil.” 

In mock indignation, Suga pressed his free hand to his chest, which also served to reaffirm that his heart had not yet beat from his chest. “What? I’m not important enough for The Devil?” he gasped. “I’m outraged. I’d like to speak to your manager.” 

“Sorry, sir. The Boss doesn’t do field work these days,” the devil said in a way that sounded nowhere near as apologetic as he has been when he arrived. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Mister…?”

Suga straightened from his unseemly slouch and tried vainly to tame his cowlick before he thrust his hand into the space between them. “Sugawara Kōshi,” he introduced. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Sugawara-san,” the devil smiled, taking Suga’s hand in a firm grip. “You can call me Sawamura Daichi.” 

“Woah, Japanese? Is that your real name?” 

Daichi gave him a pleasant smile. “It’s the name I use for myself.”

Suga rolled his eyes and stuffed his hand back into his hoodie pocket. He said, “I’m surprised you’re so…” He gestured at Daichi with the box. “Nice,” he finished. “Honestly I was expecting some fire and smoke and maybe some horns and a bad attitude.” 

The devil Sawamura actually looked a little offended as he crossed his arms. “I’m in the business of granting wishes and collecting souls. Bad attitudes are for the torture department. I take pride in my work, so if we enter into a contract then you’re my customer for the duration of it. My job is to ensure your satisfaction.”

Suga couldn’t stifle the giggle that escaped his lips, but he quickly held up his hands in an non-threatening attempt to mollify the scowl that was crossing Sawamura’s face. “Knowing you’re basically the equivalent of Hell’s retail worker makes me feel way less nervous about this than I did when I first got here, so I have total faith in your skill.” 

The devil narrowed his brown eyes, unsure if Suga’s statement was a compliment or not. “Well. Good!” he eventually huffed, fiddling again with his tie. “Shall we get to business, then? What is it you’d like, Sugawara-san?”

“Just Suga, please. Kōshi’s fine too. I’m not big on formalities. But If you spend the next however many years calling me Sugawara-san I will literally slit my wrists.” 

Daichi adopted a business-like tone as he noted, “Actually, suicide would void the contract and result in other consequences.”

“Oh my god, it’s a figure of speech,” Suga groaned as he thrust the box into Daichi’s chest. “Here. This is my offering. That’s how it works, right? I have to give you something?”

The devil snorted as he took the proffered box. “...This is an Amazon shipping box.” 

“Don’t be picky.” 

The devil heaved a sigh but slid a finger under the haphazard clear tape that held the box’s flaps in place. “You know, back in the day people would put more effort into presentation,” he reminisced with a wistful sigh. “It’s a show of respect!”

“Nobody got time for that,” Suga groused. The devil didn’t reply, though, fixated on the box’s contents. As Daichi unfolded the notebook paper wherein Suga had written the desire for which he’d trade his soul, Suga fidgeted, drawing circles in the dust with his toe.

“Hey, we should talk about this wish,” Daichi said after a moment. He held Suga’s outline aloft and wore a pensive frown.

Suga bristled. “What about it? You can’t do it?”

Sawamura screwed up his face, hesitating, then shook his head. “It’s not that I can’t,” he disagreed. “But I feel obligated to warn you that a wish like this comes with a short lifespan. If you give me something more pointed or simple, I could give you all the natural time you have left. I wouldn’t have to come collect your soul until you died. With something like this, the best I’ll give you is three years. Wouldn’t you rather have more time?” 

The question, though sensible enough, stung irrationally. Suga couldn’t help the slide of his smile from his face as he muttered, “No, I can’t say I particularly care to have more time.” 

Daichi raised an eyebrow. “That’s pretty depressing, dude.” 

Realizing what he’d said, Suga plastered on a bright smile and flung his arms out wide. “Surely you don’t expect the happiest people to make such bad decisions?”

Daichi shrugged at him, though his expression was curious. “Maybe. You’d be surprised,” he said with a nonchalant tone. “That aside, a big wish like this is also going to need a bit more than-“ the devil paused as he peered into the box again- “six mini bottles of assorted liquor, some hair, and your baby teeth? What the fuck am I supposed to do with your _teeth_ , Suga?” 

Suga had the decency to blush, his shoulders up to his ears and eyes downcast. “I thought there was gonna be more, like, _black magic_ to this whole thing! Teeth seemed appropriate!”

Sawamura’s face was contorted in a way that did not disguise his desire to laugh. In a bid for composure, he straightened his immaculate tie and smoothed the front of his suit coat. “Okay. Okay, aside from your… _teeth_ , what have you got for me?” 

Despair clawed its way into Suga’s confidence. As a broke, single and depressed teacher, ‘nothing,’ was the answer. There was nothing else he could offer the mythical being in front of him that he probably couldn’t attain himself. For that matter, what would a devil even want? Suga gnawed at his nails and reluctantly met Daichi’s expectant gaze. “I don’t really have anything else,” he murmured finally. He reached with trembling fingers for the box as he apologized, “Sorry for wasting your time.” 

But Daichi held the box aloft, just out of Suga’s reach and clicked his tongue. “You got any firsts?”

Puzzled and annoyed, Suga settled back onto his heels and echoed, “Firsts?”

“Sure. Firsts of things are great since you can’t give it to anyone else. You know, future first-born kids, or first kisses or whatever. You got anything like that?” Sawamura asked. At the mention of first kisses, Suga’s face went bright red and he stiffened, something of which the devil seemed all to aware. There seemed to be a dangerous glint to his brown eyes, made all the more apparent by the crafty smile spreading across his face. “Oh? Which is it? I’m going to assume you don’t have a secret love child.” When Suga didn’t reply, the devil lit up with excitement. “I’ll call it even for a kiss.”

Suga gaped for a second until annoyance twisted his features into a scowl. “I can’t! I’m saving it!”

At his angry outburst, the devil took on a more serious expression. “You said you didn’t have anything else to offer me,” he remarked, voice calm and factual. A flick of his wrist straightened the paper in his hand and he read, “‘I want whatever I ask for so I can finally be happy.’” Embarrassed, Suga snatched the note from Daichi’s hand, saying nothing. Daichi continued, “You obviously don’t have anyone or anything holding you back. Why not?” 

It felt like being burned from the inside. Suga glowered, failing to quell the fire on his face. “I-I, you! Just because I’m not happy doesn’t mean I’m just going to throw away my first kiss all willy-nilly! Ask for something else!”

Sawamura hummed his curiosity, his serious face lightening into something hungry. “Nope, definitely not now. It’s too perfect. A kiss, the box, and your soul for three years of everything you could ever want? It’s a good deal!” 

Suga threw his hands over his mouth and squeaked at the proposition. Could he do it? he wondered of himself as he eyed the devil with a shy glance. It was only a kiss. A kiss he’d been saving for Tōru. Tōru, who didn’t- wouldn’t ever- love him like he did Iwaizumi. Unbidden tears beaded in the corners of his eyes as the reminder settled back into chest, heavy and raw. The point of being out here chasing myths on the dredges of desperation, heartache and alcohol was to forget Tōru. What was a kiss, in the grand scheme? He’d never get one anyway if he didn’t do it now. 

The tears he’d been holding back spilled over his cheeks when he reminded himself of the crushing loneliness of his life, and in a shockingly kind gesture, the devil Daichi Sawamura stepped forward and thumbed the moisture from his cheeks. For someone starved for touch and attention, it was the nail in the coffin of his decision. Suga sniffed, then sighed, “Fine. If you can give me whatever I want for three years, I’ll do it.” 

With a smirk, Daichi pinched Suga’s already red nose and tugged it; Suga squawked and punched him in the gut. A horrified expression overcame his face when the devil doubled over, but Daichi only wheezed out a laugh. “That’s better,” he noted once he straightened and took in the annoyed frown that Suga couldn’t help at the antics. “I’d rather you not be actively crying. Feels bad man.” 

Suga was sure his face was never going to return to its normal color. “S-selfish,” he chided, though it lost its severity with his stammer. “Let’s seal this contract already before I change my mind.” 

At once, the businessman returned and Daichi asked, “Would you like a copy in writing to read first?” 

“Puh-lease,” Suga drawled. “Do you know how many contract agreements I ignore daily? I’m not starting by reading one now. Three years of whatever I ask for, in exchange for my rainy day booze stash, my first kiss, and my immortal soul. Donezo.” He gestured at Daichi to come at him with a false bravado, but it was dashed instantly at the predatory gleam in Daichi’s eyes. 

“Three years of service for your soul,” the devil echoed as he slid one hand around Suga’s back and pulled him closer. It set the blood racing through Suga’s veins and his face rekindled at the intensity in Daichi’s eyes as he caressed his cheek with the other hand. Suga stammered a short, “U-um!” that was swallowed as Daichi brought their lips together.

It wasn’t the short affair Suga had imagined when it was suggested. In the first instant Daichil was pressing in, soft lips insistent against Suga’s, tense and hesitant. His knees quaked at the sensation and his slim hands unconsciously twined into the lapels of Daichi’s coat for support. It was a motion of which the devil took advantage, dragging their hips together by the hand splayed across Suga’s lower back. A tiny gasp fell unbidden from Suga’s lips, and in the same breath delved the wet heat of Sawamura’s tongue. It dragged from Suga a guttural moan every bit as lewd as he felt pressed flush to Daichi’s chest. And as his scrambled thoughts concluded that his heart was about to burst, the devil separated from the kiss with a wet pop. 

Suga’s hazy gaze slid across Sawamura’s satisfied smirk. The other man took Suga’s hands and unclenched them from his jacket. “Are we off to a good start?” Daichi questioned innocently as he procured the Amazon box from thin air, uncapped one of the mini bottles and downed it. 

”It was fine,” Suga muttered in an attempt to be cool, which was an impossible task since his chest still ached with the traitorous pounding of his heart. The devil seemed cognizant of his skill anyway, since he leveled an overly smug grin at him. 

“Any requests for your first wish?” Daichi asked, looking extremely chipper. “Money? Nice house?” He opened the second bottle and swallowed it with a grimace. “Better alcohol?”

Suga punched him in the arm. “Can you fly or something? I think I’d just like to go home,” he admitted. “It was a long bike ride out here.”

Sawamura chuckled. “Or something,” he confirmed. “Think of your house and hold the image in your head. Oh, and don’t let go of your bike.” Before Suga could ask for details, the devil had one hand wrapped around his and the other drew him in by the waist. “Your house,” Sawamura reminded again when Suga looked at him with a question on his lips. 

The prompting immediately drew to mind the image of his run down little apartment complex, and when Suga blinked, his building stood before them in reality. The clatter of his bike against the pavement broke the midnight silence. “Holy shit,” Suga breathed. “That’s awesome.” 

The devil grinned wider, though it faltered when he turned towards the old building. “You don’t want to do something about this situation?” he questioned with a note of incredulous judgement in his tone. 

“Later,” Suga yawned. “Sleep now. I’m so tired. I’m up entirely too late for someone whose alarm goes off before 6am. Are you—“

He turned back to ask Daichi if he was going to go somewhere, only to find that he was alone on the quiet street. It was difficult to muster the energy to be startled; he blinked at the empty space. “Rude,” he grumbled to himself as he collected his fallen bike and chained it to the railing outside his unit. By the time he had brushed his teeth and stripped to his underwear, Sugawara Kōshi had almost completely disregarded the strange occurrence of the night.

***

With a groan, Suga rolled over and jammed his finger to his phone to stop the incessant beeping of his alarm. 5:45am was too early to function. Why had he pursued a teaching degree? The ceiling of his studio apartment offered no answers, as per usual. Also standard fare for his daily morning ritual was the insidious followup, _Would anyone really notice if he didn’t show up for work?_ He could lay in bed until he melded with the mattress instead. That’d be fun. He spent a few moments measuring the pros and cons of spending the rest of his existence as a mattress stain. As in previous days, the cons outweighed the pros and he mustered the energy to shuffle to his feet. “I wish school was cancelled forever,” he hissed.

“Is that a real wish or a hyperbolic complaint?” Suga yelped and the vestiges of sleep disappeared as he spun wildly toward the source of the question. Clad in a tank top and athletic shorts and with his hair loose over his forehead, Daichi Sawamura inclined his head and offered a genial, “Good morning.” 

“Oh,” Suga giggled weakly when his legs gave out under the sudden adrenaline dump. “I forgot about that.” 

The devil scowled, “How do you forget selling your soul?”

From the floor, the teacher stared up into the other man’s disapproving face. “Considering I wake up most days crushed already under the weight of existence? Pretty easily, actually.” 

“We’ve got to do something about that depression,” Daichi noted as he proffered a hand and pulled Suga to his feet. 

“Yep! Gotta fill this void with stuff!” Suga agreed with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Since you’re here, can I like, wish for some fancy coffee or something?”

The devil wrinkled his nose. “You want to go to work? You could be suddenly wealthy and never have to work again. You could go to Bali instead. You ever been to Bali?” 

Suga paused in his task of picking a clean shirt. He supposed he hadn’t fully considered the implications of ‘wishing for anything.’ “I… don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to jump into things too fast.” 

There was curiosity in Daichi’s eyes as he eyed Suga for a speculative moment. Slowly, he pointed out, “You’ve already jumped into things; just take a day off. I want to go over some things with you about our contract. Since you refuse to read it.” 

“But it’s the beginning of the school year,” the teacher protested weakly. “I can’t call in on the second week of school.” 

“Sure you can. You’re just too scared to do it,” Daichi noted. “Which is hilarious since you literally sold your soul to the devil. What else could you possibly have to be scared of?”

Suga took a breath to argue, but it left him with a defeated _woosh_. “Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll call in.” 

Daichi beamed, “I’ll make it worth your while,” while Suga rooted around his sheets for his phone. When he turned, ringing phone to his ear, the devil had vanished. “What the f- _Hi_ , Yamamoto-san. It’s Sugawara Kōshi!” Suga chirped. Deciding that greeting had sounded too cheerful, he forced a pathetic cough and whined, “I’m so sorry, but I’m feeling unwell. Uh huh. Yes, I know the school year just started. Well, I’ll owe her for covering for me. _Okaaaay_ , Yamamoto-san, thanks.” He clicked the hangup button. “What a bitch,” he grumbled. He shot a glare at the spot where Daichi had been standing a few minutes ago and added, “And you better come back soon after making me do that!” 

Even after Secretary Yamamoto’s passive-aggressive chiding, there was nothing more than a resignation that settled in with the rest of his accumulated shame. It wasn’t as though he wanted to go to work, but calling in was accompanied by its own discontent. What little energy he’d managed was leached from him by ever-present melancholy. Rather than resume his search for clean clothes, Suga sank back onto his bed and sprawled. 

“I was only gone for five minutes,” a voice scolded gently. Suga jolted upright and took in his personal devil’s sudden reappearance. Daichi’s exercise clothes had been exchanged for gray slacks and a navy button-up rolled to the elbows, and his clean hair was styled back. The devil had in his outstretched hand a steaming white cup. “Here,” he said. “It’s from my favorite place.” 

Suga blinked, then took the offering with a grateful sip. The smoothest blend of espresso and sweetened milk he’d ever experienced danced across his tongue. He moaned involuntarily. “Hm, it’s spiritual right?” the devil grinned. “Best lattes in the world, hands down. You can have the croissant when you’re dressed.” 

Only after that prodding did Suga notice the paper bag in Daichi’s hand, and he threw on his clothes in record time. He did a twirl to show off his state of dress, earning an approving nod and a package stuffed with several pastries. With the utmost reverence he bit into the buttery croissant. Warm, flaky, soft. Perfect. “I think this just cured me,” he swore with his mouth full. “Daichi, I just touched God and it’s a croissant.” The devil threw back his head with a laugh as warm as the food in Suga’s hands. For a moment, the domestic scene swelled in Suga’s chest, a bubble of happiness. It felt like ages since he’d _laughed_ with someone, or even just been with someone who wasn’t a grade schooler or a coworker in the staff office. “Could I just spend three years wishing for amazing food?” he joked. The croissant was finished off and he licked his fingers desperately. 

“I’ve accumulated a pretty extensive list of great places to eat doing this job, so, yes please,” the devil returned. “It’s pretty much the reason I work out constantly.” 

“Ooh, so your body is like, properly human if you have to work out and stuff,” Suga marveled. It was as good an excuse as any to spend a few extra moments eyeing the hinted definition of the man’s thighs beneath his pants. “C’mon, Daichi, let’s get super fat. I want you to roll me to Hell in a wheelbarrow.” 

The devil snorted into his fist which did little to hide the goofy grin on his lips. “If that’s what you want,” he teased. “I’m fond of this body, though; I’d like to keep it this way.” 

“Boo, you’re no fun. I’m not going to get morbidly obese by myself.”

“Guess you’re going to have to balance it out, then,” Daichi asserted. He took a chocolate pastry from the bag in Suga’s hands and joined him on his bed. “You called in? I heard you complaining.” 

Suga flushed, eyes narrowed and questioned, “Can you hear everything I say?” 

“If it’s out loud, more or less,” the devil said, letting his head loll back. “Ah, man these are good. You ready to go?”

Leaping to his feet with an annoyed click of his tongue, Suga growled, “Slow down! Why can you hear everything I say? And what do you mean, are you ready to go? Where are we going!”

Daichi collapsed back into the sheets and Suga swallowed hard at the sight. “Gotta know when you want me to help you out, don't I?” he explained. “Maybe you should’ve read the contract.” 

“Oh my god, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Grinning lazily, Sawamura shook his head. “Nope! You should always read the contract. But, luckily for you, I’m a nice guy and I’ll give you all the highlights.” He propped himself onto his elbows and Suga averted his eyes. “I figured we’d get out of town for a bit to talk. Why not, right? You already called in.” 

“I don’t have a passport,” Suga blurted. He then slapped his hand to his forehead when Daichi laughed. 

“Is there anywhere you’ve wanted to go?” the devil asked. “If money were no object. Which it isn’t.” 

Suga hesitated, then began to tap on his phone. “Can we go here?” he ventured, turning the screen towards his partner in crime. “After like, five more hours of sleep.”

Daichi took in the Tripadvisor page and his face softened. “No problem,” he nodded as he rose to his feet. “Three hours of sleep and I’ll come get you. I hope you have an umbrella. China’s rainy this time of year.” 

***

A broad smile worked its way onto Suga’s face as he took in the view of the Jin River from the Anshun Bridge. “Can we stay until evening?” he asked of the man at his side. “Everything gets lit up at night!” 

Daichi adjusted the wide umbrella where the drizzle had begun to reach Suga’s nose. “We can stay as long as you want,” he reminded. 

Suga turned his hazel eyes to the devil, a little apprehension working its way between his brows. “Would you want to, though?” he pressed. “I don’t want to make you do things you don’t want to do.” 

Suga’s question seemed to take Daichi by surprise, and a realization prickled uncomfortably in his chest: for three years he was now irrevocably connected to another being. There was no fulfilling his calling as a mattress stain when there was someone with whom he was linked. _Perhaps this had been a mistake_ , he considered while Daichi seemed to struggle for an answer. Not necessarily for the bit about his soul, either. He’d chained someone to him for three years on a depression-fueled whim. Maybe Daichi was able to put up with a lot to make his soul quota, but Suga was really going to torment another being with his insufferable presence for three whole years. In all his life he’d never done something so self-centered. Now, the least he could do was ensure his partner wasn’t bored out of his mind. 

After a few moments of quiet, Daichi averted his gaze with a sheepish smile. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” he admitted. “I think it would be fun. If you want. You’d have to call in again, though. Do you think you can handle it?” he joked. 

“Hm, after lunch, for sure,” Suga replied as relief eased the worry contained his shoulders. “We’re here for the spiciest mapo tofu in the province, after all.” 

Wrinkling his nose, Daichi shook his head but his smile didn’t waver. Instead he jerked his head across the bridge and declared, “We’d better start walking, then. Google says it’ll take almost an hour and a half. We’ll be able to cover everything in our contract by the time we get there.”

“Well, aside from being able to read my mind, what else do I really need to know about?” Suga prodded, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the bustling city around them. 

“I can’t read your mind. I can just hear when you’re talking out loud,” the devil corrected. “And I mean, it’s not like I’ll always be actively eavesdropping on your private conversations. I’ve been doing this a while; I’m pretty good at tuning stuff out,” he assured. “I just need to know when you’re asking for me, is all.” 

“It wouldn’t be all that exciting most of the time anyway,” Suga mumbled absently. “Unless you find elementary school math and literature interesting.”

Daichi snorted, “I can’t say I do. So, some of the main limits of our contract: first, no time travel. Things can get way too messy that way and it just isn’t worth the cleanup. No wishing for the death of other people and/or entities. There’s like-” he counted on his fingers- “three exceptions and requests would have to be approved by the Boss first.” 

Suga stopped midstep, a horrified expression painted on his face. “People wish for other people to die?” he gasped. 

Offering a rueful smile and a shrug, the handsome devil admitted, “It’s not usually the nicest people selling their souls. That’s why we have rules.” His brown eyes roved down to Suga’s feet and back up to his worried eyes. “I have a feeling I won’t have to worry about that with you.” 

“Absolutely not,” Suga swore and they continued their walk. “I can’t even imagine feeling that strongly about anyone or anything, honestly.” 

“Hm. I think that’s a problem of its own,” Daichi teased, but before Suga could retort, he continued, “Along that vein, no raising the dead or getting rid of terminal illnesses. That kind of power is above my pay grade.”

Suga elbowed the devil. “So it’s possible, you just can’t do it.” Daichi scowled and turned aside, taking their umbrella with him. The blond man shrieked a laugh and scuttled back under the cover. “Sorry, sorry! Forgive me for insulting you, my all powerful friend.” 

“That’s more like it,” the devil grumbled. “Lastly, no wishes that take away free will. Boss is big on free will. Super common, wishing for people to love you. People are weird like that.” 

Footsteps faltered on the slick street and Suga came to a stuttering halt as his thoughts ran away from him. A brief vision of laughter and smiles, entwined with Tōru in bed and strolling on the beaches of Argentina filled him with such a desperate longing that his breath stalled. Violently Suga shook his head and rushed to catch up to Daichi before his hair was soaked through. The other man had just said it was a no-no; there was no point in imagining Tōru suddenly loving him back. His mood somber, the teacher shuffled back into place and the devil seemed aware of the change. He arched a brow at the quiet despair which had returned to Suga’s demeanor. “Is that what you were hoping for by selling your soul?” he pestered. 

Water droplets skittered down his cheeks when Suga shook his head in the negative. “I wouldn’t do that,” he asserted, voice quiet and sad. “It’s just… When you said it, I couldn’t help thinking about what it’d be like. That’s all.”

An awkward silence fell between them as they maneuvered through the packed streets. Even if he could, Suga wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have wished for it anyway. He would have always known in the back of his mind that it wasn’t real. And how much would that destroy Iwaizumi? The thought made his stomach turn: heartbroken as he was, he wouldn’t want to inflict that kind of pain on someone else. He was drawn from his thoughts when Daichi asked, his deep voice carrying a tint of curiosity, “What was it that brought you to the crossroads, anyway?”

A lump formed in Suga’s throat and he swallowed past it to admit, “Unrequited love, I guess. We were good friends but after I told him a few of weeks ago that I loved him, we stopped talking. Guess it was kinda just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s not like anything else was worthwhile in my life. I’ve read all the stories about making deals with the devil and figured, what did I have to lose by seeing if it was real?” 

The devil hummed his acknowledgement. “So you wanna move on. Do something different with your life.”

Suga made a noncommittal noise and avoided Daichi’s withering side eye in response. “Let’s go with that,” he agreed with a fake grin. “Ooh, Daichi! Look at that tower! We should climb it after lunch!” The devil looked like he was going to argue, but to Suga’s relief, only nodded his head in compliance with his wish.

***

MONTH 3

Life with a devil for a friend wasn’t bad at all. 

Suga had never eaten so regularly in his life, for one. Being plied often with Daichi’s favorite foods from across the globe had forced him to squeeze running back into his schedule, lest the soft tone his stomach had adopted spread further. Daichi himself had started joining him, too. Suga hadn’t asked, but he was grateful for the company as he wheezed his way back into shape. Despite being employed by The literal Devil, Sawamura never said anything Suga could construe as even the slightest bit judgmental, even in the beginning when a mile would see Suga stagger to a breathless halt. 

Secondly, on occasion, Kōshi left the house on weekends. Hand in hand, Daichi would blink them away to a destination Suga could never have dreamed of visiting otherwise. They’d only done so to a truly exotic location twice: once to the Sichuan district of China for the Mapo Tofu that had quite possibly burned a hole in Kōshi’s stomach; and once to eat street food in Bangkok. They’d gone to Nara and fed deer, to his delight, and skipped the hike to take in the sunrise from Mount Fuji, despite Sawamura’s scolding that it was cheating. 

Life with a devil for a friend wasn’t bad at all… except that Suga continually found ways to make it so. 

That particular weekend, he swiped through the pictures on Oikawa’s Instagram post until he was thoroughly miserable, then he went back through again. And again. Stupid Iwaizumi and his stupid nice face and his stupid childhood friend status and his stupid money that let his buy that stupid, gorgeous ring. He swiped through the post until it was little more than a rectangular blur glowing in his hand. 

Tōru hadn’t even shot him a text to tell him he was engaged. He’d had to find out on _Instagram_ like the riff-raff. Not that he really blamed Tōru anyway: if he had a former best friend who’d confessed his love then awkwardly pushed him away, he wouldn’t be at the top of Suga’s list to text after getting engaged either. 

“Fuck,” Suga moaned into the arm he flung over his face. “I’m a piece of shit.”

“I beg to differ,” a voice answered from the doorway. 

“Shut up Daichi, you don’t know,” Suga called. It didn’t even startle him anymore when the devil appeared out of nowhere. _What_ _was his life_? 

A moment later the phone was plucked from his hand. He didn’t fight it and burrowed further into his mound of blankets. “ _That’s_ Tōru?” the devil grumbled after a few minutes. When Suga hummed his affirmation, there was another pause before Daichi tossed the phone in the vicinity of Suga’s head. “He’s not _that_ good looking. I don’t know what you’re all hung up about.” 

Suga shot up and launched a pillow at the devil which went wildly off course. “Are you blind? He’s gorgeous!” he shrieked as he resumed his pitiful Instagram scroll. “He’s smart too, and good at volleyball and he’s super good at Spanish. He lives part time in Argentina to play volleyball! So cool.”

With a disdainful huff, Daichi took back the phone where Suga had paused on a photo of Oikawa, artfully tearful, holding up his left hand with a red-faced Iwaizumi in the background. He scrolled through a few older photos, which Suga knew featured the two rock-climbing, and basking in the glow of a beachy sunset, in that order. “ _Hablar español no lo hace especial,_ ” he growled, then, “He looks high maintenance.”

Despite his mood, a short laugh erupted from Suga’s mouth. “You’re… not wrong,” he admitted. “Also, what?”

The devil shrugged with an innocent smile. “Do you wanna hear my opinion?” he asked, though he was already unbuttoning his suit jacket so he could sit on Suga’s bed next to him.

Suga peeked his eyes out of the edge of his blanket burrito. “Proceed.”

The devil leveled him with a frank stare. “I know there’s more to this story, but you’re clearly struggling and right now, this guy isn’t helping. Not because he rejected you or whatever. I mean, that sucks, but it is what is. But you’re sitting here torturing yourself looking at his photos when there’s no real reason to do so. You could try talking to him and letting him know how you’re feeling instead so you can get some closure. Or unfollow his stupid feed, at least.” 

Suga’s overworked eyes were already swimming again by the time Daichi finished speaking. Rather than answer he dove back into his pillow face first. He wanted to argue Daichi’s claim, but that would involve admitting that Tōru actually _had_ tried to talk to him about his feelings several times after his botched confession. The truth was, Suga _deserved_ to feel miserable for putting someone as good as Tōru through what he had. Tōru had done a lot of great things for him in the couple of years they’d known each other. He wasn’t heartless, or terrible, or any more selfish than any other human on the planet, and Suga was including himself in that. “I don’t deserve to talk to him ever again,” he cried. 

“Why not?”

Still cocooned in blankets, Suga shouted into his pillow, “Because all I ever did was bring him down! That’s what he told me, so I stopped talking to him!”

Daichi patted a hand on the lump of blankets, connecting with Suga’s mid back. It was soothing, the repetitive, gentle stroke along his spine, and it brought Suga to tears again. “What did he say when he rejected you?” the other man asked. “Word for word from what you remember.” 

Surfacing for cold air, the ashen-blond man poked his head from his blanket. He was sure he looked frightful, with eyes red and swollen and tears crusted along his cheeks, but Daichi merely offered him an encouraging nod. Taking a shuddering breath, Suga thought, then slowly recounted, “He said… that he cared about me, but it wasn’t the way I wanted.” The memory stung fresh, and he bit his lip in an effort to keep from falling apart once more. “He said he wanted to be friends and for me to be happy, but that… he wouldn’t be able to give me what I needed, even if he wasn’t already in love with Iwaizumi.” 

Thoughtfully, Daichi considered, his face neutral and betraying nothing. After a moment, he ventured, “So, he didn’t actually tell you that you were bringing him down.” 

“It’s implied, isn’t it?” Suga snapped, but the devil shook his head. 

“I don’t think that’s what he meant. I think that’s just what you heard.” The brunet brought a finger up to Suga’s forehead and flicked it gently. “Because you’re depressed. I bet he tried to text you after too, didn’t he?” 

Even though his face was already red, Suga’s cheeks burned anew with embarrassment. “I… maybe, yeah,” he grumbled. “Which just further proves how much of a piece of shit I am for ignoring him.” 

“Oh, Suga,” Daichi chided. “I’ve worked for some actual pieces of shit. Trust me, you are a far cry from it. You’re a good person, and everyone can see it but you. And it probably sucked for your friend to watch you self-destruct without being able to do anything, since the only one who can do anything about it is you.” 

He could feel his face screwing up with another wave of emotion, and this time his devil friend pulled him onto his shoulder as he sobbed, “I-I don’t know what to d-do!”

“Aren’t you forgetting about your all-powerful friend who can literally grant wishes? You’re wasting way too much time being bummed out. In three months, all I’ve done for you is make sure you eat and get to work on time. _You_ could live part-time anywhere in the world but you spend all your time staring at your phone feeling miserable instead of doing anything to change it.” 

Rubbing his tear-streaked cheeks in his sleeves, Suga extricated himself from Daichi’s hold and met his brown gaze with an apprehensive look. “Then, can you help me feel better? Is that selfish to ask for?” He did not expect the taken aback expression that tightened Daichi’s face. No sooner had it appeared did Daichi smooth his expression into a genuinely determined smile that had no business on a denizen of hell. 

“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere and don’t you dare start scrolling through Insta!” the devil ordered before vanishing. 

“Nobody says ‘Insta’ out loud,” Suga chuckled. He reached instinctively for his phone then paused with an annoyed huff. “What am I supposed to do instead? Be alone with my thoughts?” he muttered as he rolled onto his back to glare at the ceiling. “That’s worse than scrolling.” 

“Oh my god. You know I can hear you complaining across dimensions and yet you continue to do it,” came Daichi’s voice. 

Propping himself up, Suga eyed the devil who had reappeared and was situating a large, clanking duffel bag at Suga’s feet. “You’re allowed to say God?” 

“With a little g,” Daichi retorted. He extended a hand which Suga took with a curious look. In the span of a breath they had blinked from his bedroom into a ramshackle house, clearly abandoned. 

Suga looked around, unimpressed. “Is this where you murder me?” 

“Wow, you could at least try to sound a little concerned about the prospect,” the devil said dryly, unzipping the duffle. He handed Suga a pair of gloves, and when he’d donned them, a pair of goggles. As he stood, he drew a sledgehammer from his bag with a wide grin. “How do you feel about breaking shit?”

With awestruck eyes, Suga hefted the tool and gave a cursory swing. “I feel great about that.” Daichi gestured as if to urge him on, so Suga turned and eyed the closest piece of furniture, a rickety side table. “This is really okay?” he questioned. He jolted when Daichi’s hands closed around his and guided him into a short swing of the hammer. The table didn’t stand a chance and splintered into pieces to the backdrop of Suga’s excited, nervous giggles. “Holy shit!”

Daichi waved at the rest of the house with a flourish. “Have at it.”

“Aren’t you gonna do it too?” he fretted. “I’d feel weird if it was just me.” 

“I mean, I might have brought a second hammer,” the devil admitted, drawing the tool from the bag with a grand flourish. “One last thing,” he added as he slung the sledgehammer over one shoulder and motioned for Suga’s phone with his free hand. A few moments later, Suga jumped from his skin as a violent scream ripped through the quiet house. “Mood music!” Daichi shouted over the cacophony of wailing guitars and a driving drumbeat. Without preamble, he slipped the phone into Suga’s back pocket and swung hard at the wall. A wild laugh burst from Suga’s throat and he took a few steps to admire the hole left in Daichi’s wake before adding his own with a victorious shout. Screaming all the while, Kōshi darted around the dilapidated house and destroyed everything in sight. An empty bookshelf splintered under his hand and he hammered through a wall until he could see into the next room. He made his way into the kitchen and abandoned the sledgehammer for a moment, taking a few dusty plates in hand and hurling them into the ground. He bludgeoned chairs into pieces while Daichi smashed the table they belonged to. Their twin paths of destruction wound through the house until Suga’s arms gave out. Chest heaving and throat raw, he collapsed onto the warped floor and let a solid cry overtake him. The goggles fogged and he was pretty sure snot was dribbling down his chin, but Suga wailed along with the metal emanating from his pocket until his voice was well and truly gone. 

When his voice had died and took his tears along with it, Kōshi finally sat up and paused the roaring playlist. He wiped his face in his dusty sleeve and laughed when it did nothing to help the situation on his face. Wordlessly, Daichi was there with a clean handkerchief dangling in the space between them. His pristine suit was as dirty as Suga’s clothes, and his styled hair was askew, falling from its firmly fixed coif. Suga grinned at the mess of a man, took the handkerchief and wiped his face gratefully. 

“Thanks,” he said, or tried to say. It came out as barely more than an airless croak. Daichi tossed back his head in a deep laugh, earning a weightless scowl from Suga. With a silent groan the teacher forced his aching muscles upright. He flexed his fingers, which already felt blistered. Somehow, despite the pain, his chest felt lighter than it had in months. 

“Ready to go home?” Daichi asked as he scooped up Suga’s equipment like it weighed nothing and repacked it. Suga nodded, and leaned into the other man as he threaded their arms together. They returned to Suga’s little apartment in a dirty heap a second later. “Go clean up,” Daichi directed. “I’ll be back when you're done.” 

Suga took his time hobbling to the tiny bathroom, and far longer than normal to wash the grime from his body. By the time he curled up in the hot water to soak, his muscles were screaming in protest. “I can’t move,” he whispered. 

“Don’t drown in the tub, please,” Daichi called from the other room. “Accidental deaths will void the contract in your favor. Think of my quota!”

A dry chuckle tried to work its way out of Suga’s throat. “Maybe you’ll have to come get me, then,” he croaked. The ensuing silence made him wonder if he’d gone too far, until, quieter than before, Daichi answered, “Who’s the devil now? Don’t be tempting me.” 

With a snicker, the Ash-blond man forced himself to his feet and began the torturous process of drying. It was a fond thought, the idea that he could tempt anyone into doing anything. At the least, he appreciated the joke. He threw on a pair of shorts, still wearing a grin that had yet to subside. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a squeaky clean Daichi sprawled across what little floor space the apartment boasted. “It sure is quiet without your incessant complaints,” the devil noted, giving him a cheeky grin. Suga kicked him in the leg as he tiptoed around him to collapse onto his bed. 

“I’m glad it’s summer break,” Suga whispered.”I don't think I’ll be able to talk for days.” 

“You probably won’t be able to lift your arms either,” Daichi added. Suga clicked his tongue and dangled his foot from the edge of the bed until he found the other man’s face. He toed his ear and laughed while Daichi swatted his leg with a disgruntled huff. 

“Hey, Daichi.” 

“What?”

“I think I should see a doctor.”

The devil didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to prop himself along the edge of the bed. Their eyes locked and with some difficulty Suga lifted his arm and pressed a finger between Daichi’s eyebrows where they were furrowed. “That sounds good,” Daichi replied, making no effort to remove Suga’s finger. “Should I count that towards my future success in making you happy?” 

Suga snorted and poked his forehead, earning a lopsided grin from the devil. “If it works, then that’s fine,” the teacher granted. “I probably never would’ve gone anyway, if it wasn’t for your constant nagging.” 

Daichi looked far too pleased at the light-hearted insult. With a grunt of his own, Daichi rose to his feet. In a gesture that was far too tender for someone who worked in Hell, he eased two of Suga’s blankets over him, before turning his back quickly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbled. 

“Tomorrow,” Suga agreed, too exhausted to keep his eyes open a moment longer. 

***

MONTH 3 + 2 DAYS 

Suga chewed his nails nervously one last time, then shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. Still stiff from the sledgehammer swinging, he shouldered his way into the clinic and approached the receptionist. 

“What brings you in today?” she questioned politely as she gathered paperwork and a clipboard for him. 

After a deep breath, Suga rasped, “I’m very depressed and I would like to not be anymore.” 

The young lady regarded him with surprise, but quickly returned to a professional polite neutrality. “That’s no problem at all,” she assured. “Please fill this out and return it to me.” 

An hour and a half later, Suga exited the clinic with a light step and a bottle of pills in his pocket.   
  



	2. Month 4 - 10: Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this story has me on the struggle bus. It does not want to be written! I don't feel great about this chapter, either.
> 
> Wanted to add that this story exists in a happy world without COVID. I come here to escape, dang it! :P

Happiness was a strange concept that Suga wasn’t sure he fully understood. Maybe it was because he hadn’t quite achieved happiness yet, despite the medication. It wasn’t as if the pills made him suddenly sunny and cheerful. Rather than waking one morning to sudden joy and inner peace, what happened first was the slow, creeping desire to do things.Three weeks after starting his regimen was the first time he noticed: he awoke, rolled out of bed, brushed his teeth and dressed before he realized that he had _wanted_ to get out of bed and start his day. He looked warily at the bottle of pills before taking his daily dose. 

“Hey, Daichi?” he called to his ever-present-and-yet-not-present housemate. 

“What!” The housemate-in-question bounded through the door into the bathroom, still wearing headphones and holding his phone in hand. “No, sorry, talking to my, uh, roommate. What! No! I told you guys I was doing my tasks in electrical! I’m not— ah, shit.” He slumped and plucked out his earbuds. 

“Were you the imposter though?” Suga asked. 

Daichi pouted, “Yeah, but I don’t get it! I’m literally a devil. Lying should be easy!”

“Daichi, have you ever heard yourself talk? You’re surprisingly earnest.” 

The pout on the man’s face intensified, and for a moment he looked young, like Suga could glimpse the boy he might have been. “No I’m not,” he sulked. 

Suga turned from the mirror and flashed his friend an incredulous smile. “You’re joking right? Literally ten minutes after meeting me you told me I should change my wish so I would have more time.” 

Embarrassment had crept across Daichi’s cheeks and onto his ears by that point in the conversation. Huffing, he shoved his phone into his pocket and changed the subject. “What did you want?” 

Swallowing a giggle, Suga turned back to his reflection. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your game. It’s not important,” he apologized, but Daichi just shrugged with the same sincerity with which he did everything. _It’s no big deal,_ his body said, and Suga found that he believed it. He confessed, “I don’t know, I just feel weird. I didn’t wish I hadn’t gotten up; I actually _wanted_ to get out of bed, and I don’t even have anything to do today. I don’t know what to do with myself. Is this how it should always feel?” 

Daichi’s face softened, and he directed a congratulatory punch to Suga’s shoulder. “Yeah, Suga. That’s how it should always feel.” 

“Huh. I kinda feel like I want to go back to work.” Suga turned with a bewildered look. “I don’t think I’ve actually wanted to go to work since the first trimester I started teaching, especially not while I’m on vacation.” 

“That’s a good thing considering how much time you put into working,” Daichi pointed out. “Is there anything else you want to do? Magical wishes, you know.”

Suga pursed his lips in thought. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll get back to you on that.” 

Two days later, the question had kept him awake into the wee hours of the morning, but he’d decided that he did, in fact, have something he wanted to do. He took a soothing breath, then flexed and relaxed his fingers. There was no reason for him to be nervous; he’d sold his soul to ask for whatever he wanted. Softly, he called out, “Hey Daichi?”

A few moments later, the man in question took a stumbling step through dimensions into Suga’s apartment. He was a rare sight: bleary eyed, mussed hair, and soft pajamas. He must have still been asleep, and Suga’s chest tightened both in fondness and guilt. “Sorry I woke you,” he murmured. 

“S’okay,” Daichi mumbled, scratching his head. “You alright?”

Nodding, Suga reached out and let his friend take his spot on the bed, then dropped himself into a cross-legged seat on the floor. “Pretty rare that I’m up before you,” he teased, if only to bide his time. 

“You haven’t slept yet, have you?” the devil questioned as he flopped onto his side and stretched out on Suga’s bed. 

“Not so much, yeah.” 

A lazy smile curled onto Daichi’s unshaven face. “What’s up?”

After a long exhale, Suga hedged, “So, you know I’ve only got two weeks left of summer vacation?”

“Mmhm.” 

“And you asked me if there was anything I wanted to do.”

“Ye-ah.”

“Well, I was thinking… that maybe I want to go to the beach,” he admitted. Daichi’s eyes blinked open, a little more awake, so Suga stammered on, “Not by myself, you know, if you aren’t sick of me and would want to go too. Maybe like, um, Hawaii?”

Daichi continued to stare at him with sleepy surprise. When the silence had stretched on for a few moments, he echoed, “You’re asking me… to go to Hawaii?” 

Suga puffed his cheeks, then sighed, “Yes. Is that weird?”

“No!” the devil exclaimed, pushing himself up. “No, it’s not weird! It’s just- Suga, this is the first big thing you’ve asked me for!” 

A warm relief flooded Suga’s chest and he slumped against the bed. “Oh, yeah. I guess it is. Definitely bigger than breakfast and no bills, huh? But, yeah. I don’t know. I kinda just want to do stuff.” 

“That’s awesome,” Daichi grinned. He adopted a semi-serious expression and added, “I have a condition. No, wait. I mean, I can’t actually request that you do anything—” 

“Daichi, just tell me,” Suga interrupted with a chuckle. 

Dropping back into the bed, Daichi relaxed with an exhale. “Well, alright. My condition is that you text your friend Tōru before the end of the year.” 

Suga faltered, his smile sliding away as he began to chew on his bottom lip. Talk to Tōru? The prospect caused his stomach to churn. Admittedly, there was a lot he wanted to apologize for if he could gather the courage to do so. Part of him craved the interaction; he missed his best friend. Still, a larger part of him feared what would happen if he did. After months of ignoring him, would Tōru even entertain an apology? He was notoriously petty, and Suga’s transgressions were no small slight. He’d only just begun to regain a semblance of motivation, so what if confronting the person with whom he’d been in love overwhelmed what little ground he had gained? His frown deepened when he considered the tumult of emotion that accompanied the thought. It hurt again, remembering his rejection, but the ache was dull, like an old injury. Maybe he would fall all over again, dooming himself to live the remainder of his time on Earth heartbroken. “I… don't know,” he mumbled. 

“Tell me why,” Daichi prodded, motioning for Suga to sit and he did so absently, squeezing his legs onto the mattress while Daichi made as much room as his bulky frame would allow. 

“It’s scary. What if he doesn’t accept my apology?” Suga whined. “Or worse: what if I’m still in love with him? It’s gonna hurt all over again and I don’t think I can handle it.”

The devil hummed his acknowledgment, but his face fell a little. “I… yeah, I guess.” There was something guarded in his tone that Suga recognized, but didn’t understand. Quickly, the other man reiterated, “I’m not asking you to do it tomorrow. Just sometime before the end of the year. I think it’d be good for you.”

Suga reconsidered. A five month timeline meant time to tackle the problem of what to say. He could talk it over with his shiny new therapist, make a plan. “I can do it before the year is over,” he bragged with mimicked confidence. It wasn’t as if Daichi was asking him something heinous; he could manage a text. To lighten the mood which he’d brought low, Suga poked Daichi’s side and teased, “You should have led with, ‘by the end of the year!’”

“Shut up,” Daichi groaned. As if to emphasize his point, he rolled over onto his stomach and snatched Suga’s pillow for himself. “My next request is you go the fuck to sleep,” he ordered grumpily. “I need rest if we’re supposed to jump all the way to Hawaii.” 

“How am I supposed to sleep when you have my pillow?” 

Lazily the devil waved a hand and a cascade of downy pillows rained down on Suga’s head, who sputtered and shrieked. “Sleep,” Daichi ordered. 

“There’s no room, you giant idiot!” He knew there was no way Daichi had already dozed- he’d heard his name called from a dead sleep earlier- but the other man huffed and didn’t answer. With an eye roll that only benefitted himself, Suga yawned and fluffed one of the three pillows which he’d been gifted. He supposed the warm weight beside him wasn’t so bad as he shuffled under the covers. 

***

Hawaii was one of those places, Suga decided, that absolutely lived up to its hype. 

It was easy to embrace the joy in life while sipping a piña colada out of a coconut and staring out across a bright blue sea. It also seemed easy to pinpoint happiness while a sweet lady massaged every ache out of him that he’d acquired hiking a volcano. However, he had to wonder if it would have felt quite so joyful if he had not been taking his medication. He suspected he would’ve found some way to be blue had this trip been suggested four weeks ago. It wasn’t as though the dark cloud that hounded was gone, but it was certainly easy to brush aside in the tropical sun. 

There was no question in his mind that, medicated or not, he wouldn’t have experienced the depth of joy he was having if he had come alone. 

Magic aside, Daichi was fun. There were times- such as when Suga attempted to touch a dead jellyfish- that he took on a strict, almost parental attitude (“Don’t touch that! Jellyfish tentacles can still sting even if it’s dead!” he snapped as he bodily tackled Suga into the sand). It was endearing, coming from someone whose boss was the CEO of Hell. When Suga would say as much, it was equally as fun to see what levels of flustered and sulky Daichi could reach. But he wasn’t always strict, and just as often coaxed Suga into something new (“I know it’s dark but I’ll be right next to you the whole time,” he assured before they jumped into the nighttime ocean in hopes of touching a manta ray). Tōru would have picked him apart for being scared then pushed him in. 

Some days they stayed so busy from morning to night that both would collapse into bed at the end of the day. It was a welcome exhaustion for Suga, a kind he hadn’t felt for some time. It was born from activity and not soul-deep weariness. It was productive, but when they weren’t running full steam, Suga didn’t find himself restless for a moment. From however long he’d been around, Daichi had accumulated a number of fascinating stories, but he possessed a sense of when quiet was necessary. 

It crossed Suga’s mind, several times and with great appreciation, that Daichi was very, very different from Tōru. 

* * *

## MONTH 6

_Hey Tōru. It’s Suga. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. There’s a lot to be sorry about, so, I’m sorry for ignoring you, for hurting you, and not being there for you like you were for me. It wasn’t fair. I think that a lot of how I acted even before that wasn’t fair for you. I needed time to see that and I’ve been working on it. I don’t expect anything back, I just wanted to apologize and to say thank you, too, for being such a good friend. Oh! And of course congratulations! Seriously, I mean it! Ok, that’s all I’ve got. Take care Tōru._

##  _+_ 3 DAYS

_Suga-chan~ I’ll accept your apology if you tell me what you’ve been up to the last 6 months._

* * *

## MONTH 8

At first their texts were sporadic. Every few days Suga and Oikawa would send a flurry of messages back and forth about their respective days. It wasn’t long until twice a week became every other day, then everyday. There remained something stilted in their conversations, though, something hesitant, which Suga was both dissatisfied about and unwilling to change. Surface level interactions might be an unwelcome reminder of what he’d ruined, but it also served to keep his feelings in check. 

It was why when Tōru asked if he wanted to get coffee at their old cafe, Suga almost declined. Almost. 

Suga tossed another shirt onto his floor and followed it, defeated. Daichi finally looked up from his book and shut it. He’d been spending more and more time in Suga’s tiny apartment; it probably was about to upgrade for space. 

“It’s just coffee, isn’t it?” the devil muttered. “Why are you freaking out?” 

“Well I want to look nice!” Suga snapped.

Daichi raised an eyebrow and wore an expression not often seen on his face: judgement. “Are you trying to steal him from his fiancé?”

“No!” 

“Then calm down and just put something on.”

Suga fingered his pile of fallen t-shirts with a petulant frown. “You’re being surprisingly unhelpful today, Daichi,” he pouted.

The devil crossed his arms, meeting Suga’s pout with one of his own. Suga was the tiniest bit more stubborn, though, and after a few moments of their staring contest, Daichi deflated with a sigh. “What kind of message are you trying to convey, then?” he asked, voice soft. 

“I just… want to look like I’ve gotten it together,” Suga admitted. “Like I’m doing fine and I don’t need reminders to do laundry or to eat or whatever.” He paused and cast a helpless look to his friend. “I guess I want to look like an adult?” 

Daichi rubbed the space between his eyes, but a smile had formed on his lips. Without a word, he began to pick through Suga’s pile and assemble an outfit. “Put this on,” he ordered, handing Suga the pieces one by one. When Suga had tugged the last piece overhead, Daichi took his face in hand and straightened his hair, then marched him to the mirror.

“I had this in my closet?” Suga marveled as he took in his appearance. When did he even buy those dark wash skinny jeans? It played nice with the white button up he often wore to work, which was softened by the burgundy v-neck sweater on top. 

“You need a nicer coat,” Daichi noted in response as he retrieved Suga’s bulky navy jacket and handed it to him. 

“But this one has fake fur,” Suga protested as he petted the lining on the hood. “It’s so soft! Did you even touch it?” 

The devil snorted but obliged. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered as he herded Suga towards the door. “Go get your coffee. Have fun.”

Suga shoved his wallet into his pocket with his phone, and opened the door to a snowy sidewalk. He shivered, then turned to squeeze Daichi in a brief hug. “Thanks,” he chirped, before he darted out into the cold. When he considered the last year, there was much he had to thank Daichi for that he hadn't yet. Even if he was sure the devil would disagree, Suga felt he owed him, but what could he present to someone who could procure anything he wanted with the wave of his hand? Christmas was around the corner and the perfect opportunity- _if_ he could think of a gift adequate enough.

The perfect idea came to him in the form of an older woman as he stood squished in the metro. She must have a long ride, because the moment she nestled down in front of Suga there were two needles and yarn in her wrinkled hands. It set off the figurative light bulb. “Excuse me,” he asked in his most charming voice, “how hard do you think it would be for a total novice to knit a scarf?” 

Twenty minutes and three different YouTube bookmarks later, Suga slid into the seat Tōru had saved for him at the cafe. 

When Tōru Oikawa blinked up from his phone, there was an old, familiar squeeze in Suga’s chest. As handsome as always, Tōru lit up with a dazzling smile and exclaimed, “Long time, no see, Suga-chan!”

“It’s good to see you,” he beamed, though when Tōru peered expectantly over his shoulder, he added, “Are you waiting on someone else?”

“Just seeing if your new mysterious bestie had tagged along,” Tōru said slyly. 

Ah, that was something Suga had forgotten about: Tōru’s insatiable desire to pry information from every facet of conversation. Too much time around Daichi, who said what he meant without pretense, had lowered Suga’s defenses. “Oh, I see how it is. You don't care to see me at all!” he joked. He didn’t miss the way Tōru’s shoulders went tight and he threw in hastily, “I’m kidding.” Too soon to make self-deprecating jokes. It was understandable. Tōru probably feared it wasn’t a joke at all. The last time they saw each other, a self-deprecating joke was just a shoddy veil over his real thoughts. 

As if he’d never doubted Suga’s words, Tōru dropped his face into his palm and grinned, “Never in a million years. I do want to hear all about him, though. He’s gotta be something if he convinced you to see a doctor.”

“Daichi didn’t convince me to do anything,” Suga argued. “He just… helped me realize it’d be a very good idea.” A disbelieving noise emanated from his friend, but the waitress arrived to take their order, sparing Suga at least momentarily. Before the conversation could drift that way again, as soon as the waitress skipped away Suga asked, “So, how does Iwaizumi like training Kageyama and Hinata?” 

Oikawa scowled. “He has new respect for what you had to go through as their team captain in high school. I think it’s probably worse now too with the other idiots on the Olympic team egging them on.” 

“I can’t say I envy him at all,” Suga giggled. “But he enjoys being a trainer?” 

It was a rare thing when Tōru wore such a look of unabashed fondness; it was something only ever reserved for Hajime Iwaizumi. Suga would be lying if he said it didn’t leave a sour taste in his mouth. “He loves it,” Tōru said, unaware of Suga’s internal struggle. “I will literally never say this again, but it’s a good thing he ran into Ushijima in California. If you ever repeat that I _will_ deny it, Suga.”

The ash-blond man forced out a laugh and willed the universe to deliver his coffee and occupy him. Was almost nine months too soon for this face to face, and if it was, how long would be enough? As bittersweet as he felt, the idea of never reconciling with his best friend was worse. He would simply have to push through it; losing him again wasn’t an option. Suga forced himself to take a breath and redirect his thoughts like he’d been practicing: he was happy for them both achieving their goals, if he looked past his own hurt, and he couldn’t lose sight of that. Doing so would be a set back in his own progress. 

“Your secret appreciation for Ushijima is safe with me,” Suga swore with a cheeky smile that earned a scowl from Tōru. “I guess that means he’s staying here when you go back to Argentina?” 

Oikawa’s face fell momentarily, but he quickly smoothed it over with a winning smile Suga recognized as fake. “Yeah, but it’ll be worth it when I get to beat him,” he chirped. “Ah! Coffee!” Both accepted their drinks with relief, but the conversation hit a lull. After that look on Tōru’s face, Suga knew better than to press the matter of his friend’s impending long-distance relationship, even if he would’ve been privy to the depth of Tōru’s feelings in the past. Clearly seeking lighter topics, Tōru finally pressed with a waggle of perfectly shaped brows, “So, tell me a little about Daichi! Where’d you meet him?” 

A wash of panic overcame him; he should’ve anticipated this question! “The, uh, bookstore?” Suga faltered. Tōru narrowed his eyes so Suga pressed on, “Yep! We both happened to be looking for books about… finance.” 

“ _You_ were looking for a book about finances.”

“I’m a changed man!” 

Tōru peered down his nose at Suga but accepted the lie with a slow nod. The suspicious delight on his face only seemed to grow. “So, what? You exchanged numbers or something?” 

“S-Something like that, yeah.” Oh, no. His face was getting warm; this was going somewhere he didn’t like and he was powerless to stop it. 

Like a cat playing with a mouse, Tōru lazily swirled his spoon in his cappuccino with teeth bared in a smirk. “Suga-chan,” he simpered, “are you dating this guy?” 

And there it was, the direction of Tōru’s earlier questions. Suga’s face caught fire; curse his reactive skin! “No! I— no. Like, I cannot express to you enough how much we aren’t dating,” he stammered with a nonchalant smile that probably looked as panicked as he felt. There was no way he could say, ‘I summoned him from Hell,’ as an explanation of their relationship. 

“Why are you embarrassed?” Tōru covered his mouth to stifle an exaggerated gasp. “Is he ugly? Ooh, no! Is he _old_? Did you get an old, rich sugar daddy?”

“Oh my god, we are in public!” 

“What am I supposed to think?” Tōru argued. “You started talking to him in a bookstore over finances! He took you to Hawaii a few months after you met! I won’t judge you if he’s super rich.” 

Suga covered his face and bent over the table. That was exactly what it sounded like, damn it. He should’ve known better than to give Tōru, of all people, so much ammunition. “We. Are just. Friends,” he ground out from behind his hands. “He’s just a really nice guy with a lot of money!” 

When Tōru was quiet for a moment, Suga peeked out from the safety of his palms and found him contemplating. “Sorry,” Tōru said with an apologetic smile, “but I don’t believe anyone is that nice for free.”

 _It’s not for free, though,_ Suga thought, biting his lip. “I promise: he’s not some kind of weirdo.” 

“Then, you should bring him to my going away party in February,” Tōru followed up. “You have to go since I’ll be leaving for Argentina afterwards. I want to vet him. Everyone wins.” 

A complicated tumult of anxiety and annoyance rose up in him at the idea of introducing Daichi to Tōru, and he was in no place to try and parse it out. The memory of Daichi scrolling through Tōru’s Instagram and asserting that he looked high-maintenance popped up unbidden, and it almost made him laugh out loud. This was going to be a disaster. “Yeah, I’ll ask if he wants to go,” Suga appeased. “If he doesn’t want to it’s probably from all the stories I’ve told about your awful personality.” 

Tōru glared. “Sticks and stones, Suga-chan! Iwa-chan tells me that too often for it to be hurtful.” 

He was grateful when Tōru let it drop and directed the conversation to easier topics: the state of Suga’s classroom, or his daily life as a professional athlete. They talked well past the duration of their coffee, but finally parted ways before the evening got too late. Cold and wet as the streets were, the walk to the train seemed longer than it had on his way there, and Suga was drained by the time he unlocked his apartment door. Most of that, he knew, was the emotional whiplash of the last two hours, but his mood tanked further when he walked into an empty room. Mechanically he set aside his keys and wallet, untied his shoes and discarded his jacket. He shed the rest of his clothes between the front door and bed, exchanging them for pajamas before he fell face first into his pillow pile. He opened his mouth to call for Daichi, then closed it. 

He was probably tired of hearing his complaints, which was why he wasn’t there. He had a life outside of Suga. He hadn’t really noticed it until now, but their relationship was complicated. It was a business arrangement, sure, but they were friends too. They were friends… _right?_ It sounded foolish in retrospect, thinking of friendship and Christmas gifts in regards to the devil who owned his soul. Daichi couldn’t be friends with everyone he contracted: it would be like a farmer befriending the animals he’d inevitably have to slaughter. 

Heartache gripped him tight, and before he could second guess, he whispered Daichi’s name into the dark. There were a few, terrifying moments where Suga thought he wouldn’t answer. The silence stretched on, longer than usual, but a dip at the foot of his bed came, accompanied with a familiar, “Yeah, Suga?” 

Suga released his breath and his white-knuckled grip on his pillow. “Hey,” he whispered with misplaced relief that Daichi’s presence was confirmation of anything other than their contract. 

“You alright?” That note of concern couldn’t be just contractual obligation. Months of jokes, shared stories and hours spent wish-free weren’t because of a deal, but doubt still dug its claws into what confidence he possessed. Suga’s throat closed up and he choked off his question, afraid, until Daichi shifted and placed a hand on his calf. “Suga?” 

“Do you think of me as your friend?” Suga blurted finally. He was grateful to be face down, blind to whatever look might be on Daichi’s face. 

Daichi let out a gentle snort that eased the tension built up in Suga’s body. “Yeah,” the devil answered. “I think we’re friends.” 

“Isn’t that hard for you?” 

“Is it for you?” Daichi countered. 

Suga thought. It wasn’t hard to be his friend at all; it was probably the easiest friendship he’d ever had. He wasn’t like Tōru. He could be just as stubborn, but he never condescended, never said anything that could be cruel or biting like Tōru could out of carelessness. Daichi was softer around the edges, patient and supportive, but still firm and tough when needed. A good friend, though maybe Suga would feel differently when his time came. For someone who had resigned himself to loneliness, it was selfish and wonderful to imagine a friend at the end of it all. But that was two years away, long enough to ignore. He focused on their present friendship and replied, “It’s not.”

“Good. Then go to sleep.”

Suga finally rolled over when he felt Daichi stand. His friend looked rumpled, the button up and slacks he’d been wearing earlier wrinkled and his hair a mess. He looked overworked, frazzled. “You look tired. Do you have other contracts?” Suga questioned. 

A fleeting, fond smile crossed Sawamura Daichi’s lips which was quickly covered when he turned on heel to face Suga’s bedroom window. “Nah. You keep me plenty busy. G’night, Suga.” 

Then he was gone, and Suga drew the covers to his ears in an instinctual attempt to hide the warmth creeping onto his cheeks. 

*** 

Suga went quietly about his Christmas preparation at the only place he knew Daichi wouldn’t pop in unannounced. In short-lived breaks and evenings he should’ve spent preparing for the next working day, Suga learned to knit in his classroom. 

* * *

## MONTH 8, DECEMBER 24th

“You know, you don’t have to pay for this,” Daichi fretted for the third time. Suga rolled his eyes and smiled at the waitress who raised an eyebrow but kept her opinions to herself as she took his money.

“Did you say something?” the teacher asked when she’d handed him his change and their take out drinks.

Daichi heaved an exasperated sigh but finally relaxed. “No,” he sulked. 

“I didn’t think so,” Suga beamed. “Because there’s no complaints or bad vibes on Christmas Eve. Let’s warm up in here for a minute, all right?” 

The ghost of a grin fought its way through the devil’s grumpy façade. He cupped his steaming mug of hot chocolate in hand and cradled it to his chest. Clinging to his own as it eased the chill from his hands, Suga guided them through the crowded café toward the only available window seat, a lonely corner spot. Before he could gesture for Daichi to take it, the other man pushed him into it with one well placed hand on his shoulder. There was a tiny bar counter that spanned the window, and the devil propped himself against it, a barricade between Suga and the person beside them. “Thanks for the drink,” Daichi said. 

Warmth unrelated to hot cocoa spread through Suga’s stomach. “It’s barely anything considering what you’ve done for me this year,” he replied with a naked honesty that felt clumsy on his tongue. Damn but the Christmas spirit was getting to him. 

Perhaps it sounded clumsy, too, because a soft disquiet crossed Daichi’s face. The devil looked down into his marshmallow laden drink. “How can you say that so easily?” he mumbled. 

“Because it’s true. Even if I’ve only got two years and change left, it’s already better than it would’ve been if I hadn’t made the deal,” Suga stated, in his former captain’s voice that left no room for argument. 

Ignorant of that tone or uncaring, the devil argued, “You don’t know that.”

Suga snorted and occupied himself for a time with his cocoa. His friend’s assertion meant he thought Suga was a stronger person than he was, and that was a pleasant surprise. He explained slowly, “I think I needed a lot of help that I wasn’t going to get if you hadn’t come along. You didn’t even have to help me, you know? You could’ve just given me whatever I asked for until I offed myself or the time limit came up.” Against the noise of the café- the jingle of the door, exuberant patrons and clinking cups- Daichi stared at him in quiet contemplation. Their corner felt private, caged as Suga was between the wall, the window, and Daichi’s solid chest. The intimacy of it made his heart flutter: he’d never not been alone on Christmas Eve. As to not be overheard, he softly added, “But I also wished to be happy, you know. I think I can be, because you helped me.” 

The warm yellow glow of café lights and Christmas bulbs filtering in from outside the window couldn’t disguise the pink tint on the devil Sawamura’s face. He pressed his mouth in a line that was wobbly with the effort of not smiling, and Suga took the opportunity to poke him in the side. “Christmas has me acting all sentimental and I don’t know about all that,” he declared. He choked down a scalding swallow of his drink laden with goopy marshmallow. “Wanna spend the rest of the night trying to outlast me in Among Us?” he gurgled around a tongue sticky with sugar.

Daichi’s brows fell and his lip curled up in a sneer. “You shouldn’t be so proud,” he scoffed. “It just means you’re a good liar.”

“Hm, spoken like a loser.” 

“The first time I get Imposter, I’m going to kill you.” 

Suga managed to swallow everything before he burst into laughter at Daichi’s surly grimace. It was so easy to provoke his competitiveness; volleyball was definitely next on the list. In response, Daichi flicked his forehead- harder than usual- and pulled him to the cafe door. The pair walked through the twinkling Christmas evening back towards the apartment, their conversation light but charged with the promise of competition. They were scarcely in the door when Daichi had his phone in hand, furiously tapping. Before they became too engrossed, Suga called, “Hey Daichi?” 

“Oh no,” the devil hissed, not looking up as he shrugged out of his jacket and shoes. “No wishing for victory. I’m not going easy on you if we end up against each other and I _will_ throw you under the bus even if you’re innocent.” 

Suga laughed and shuffled the lumpy package he’d drawn from its hiding place in hand so it crinkled. Daichi looked up, the ferocity in his eyes bleeding away into interest. “Merry Christmas,” Suga said, holding the package out for him to take. 

If not for the confused way in which his brown eyes flicked from the package to Suga’s face, the transparent shock on Daichi’s face would have been more humorous. A soft thud was a phone falling from loose hands onto the carpet, but its owner didn’t seem to notice. Like it would disappear if he touched it, Daichi hesitated to take the gift, his hands hovering just above the shiny red wrapping. “This is… for me?” he clarified. 

“Well, yeah,” Suga said. A deep insecurity was rearing its head at the awe in his friend’s wide eyes, and he felt compelled to stammer, “I-It’s really nothing special. I mean, I know you can get yourself way better, I just—” 

“No one’s ever given me a gift before,” the devil interrupted. There was a quiet loneliness in his eyes, fixed beyond the shimmering package. 

It tore at Suga’s heart, and he pushed the gift into Daichi’s hands to break the spell with a tactile reminder of the here and now. “You deserve a million gifts,” he asserted, surprised at the lump forming in his throat. “I wish this was more impressive, but I hope you like it.” 

Focused on the present, Daichi eased the wrapping apart with unwarranted care. When the wrinkly paper fluttered to the floor, he unfolded in his hands a dove-grey scarf. So close to the devil’s quality clothes, Suga winced at what he felt were glaring imperfections in the scarf’s make: a lump here and there, a missed stitch, a painfully simple pattern. Undertaking a homemade gift had, perhaps, been a terrible idea, and he gnawed nervously at his lips, ready to assure his friend that he wasn’t required to wear it. However, he was beaten to it when Daichi brought the scarf to his face and, in a voice that sounded suspiciously strained, said, “I love it.” 

“You… you do?” Suga gasped.

Daichi looked up, eyes bright and incredulous. “Of course! It’s perfect!”

Under the unabashed praise, Suga came apart, suddenly too warm. “Oh, well, it’s really not,” he blabbered, picking up the dangling tail of the scarf. “I dropped a stitch here. Total rookie move, no idea how to fix it now, um, you don’t have to wear it.”

If possible, Daichi’s eyes grew wider. “You _made_ this?” Suga shrank under the intensity in his face but managed a tiny nod. The devil exhaled, then wrapped the gift around his neck. “I’m wearing it forever.” 

“It’s a million degrees in here, Daichi!” Suga huffed, though the sight made his heart want to burst from his chest. He made to take it off of him, but Daichi stepped back and threw the tails over his shoulder where they couldn’t be tampered with. An unbridled laugh burst from him at the uncharacteristically childish move and Suga wheezed, “I’m glad you like it.”

Daichi didn’t join him laughing, though. Free from grabby hands, he’d loosened the scarf enough to hold it aloft, and the tender way he gazed at it silenced the rest of Suga’s giggles. “This is really incredible, Suga,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

Oh, curse the Christmas spirit. Tears sprang to his eyes so Suga could only make a noise of agreement. Who the fuck were Daichi’s previous contracts that couldn’t even manage a simple gift for the one who granted their wishes? They all deserved to be in hell, selfish bastards. “Well,” he choked out, “you’re welcome.” Then, the rest of his oxygen was squeezed from his chest when Daichi enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. 

For a quiet moment, they stood entwined, but soon enough Suga began to sweat in earnest at the temperature in the room. The way Daichi’s shaky breath ghosted across his neck wasn’t doing him any favors either. “I… feel like it would be bad karma to beat you now,” Suga mumbled into his shoulder. 

“You can’t get out of this by distracting me with gifts,” Sawamura growled. Suga shivered at the proximity to his ear, swallowed hard, but thankfully Daichi released him before he could truly chastise himself for the reaction. “Get comfy because we aren’t going anywhere,” he ordered, shedding both his belt and his button up even as the scarf remained. 

***

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, BITCH!” Daichi screamed when he finally- _finally-_ managed to kill Suga forty minutes later. 

***

## MONTH 10

He’d been putting it off, but there was no way around it anymore. Tōru’s going away party was tomorrow, and he needed a nice shirt, which meant he needed Daichi to pick his new shirt. And Daichi would wonder what the clothes were for, and Suga would have to ask him, and he would rather do so at home than in a dressing room. Suga chewed his lip, then finally exhaled, “Do you want to come to Tōru’s going away party with me?”

Daichi blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, shut the book he’d been reading. After a moment of silence he ventured, “Do you want me to?”

“Well, yeah. It’s just…” Suga trailed off then fixed Daichi with a sheepish smile. “Tōru said he wanted to meet you, which I think is code for interrogating you.” 

To his surprise, the devil looked amused. “What’d you tell him about me?” 

“I said we met in a bookstore... and that we became friends and you have a lot of money and took me to Hawaii,” the teacher confessed. 

“He thinks I’m your sugar daddy, doesn’t he.” 

“I didn’t realize how it sounded and he wouldn’t believe me when I said you weren’t!” Suga retorted. “It’s not like I can tell him the truth. What do we do?”

Daichi waved away Suga’s concerns with a chuckle. “This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s why we have an Earthside corporation to cover us.” To illustrate his point, he drew a pristine business card from his pocket and passed it over. It was simple, with Daichi’s name, number and email. The logo was a generic globe, the company name “Worldwide Finance- Consulting,” equally nondescript. Suga wouldn’t think twice about a company like this in a million years. 

“So when he asks, I’m a global financial consultant, and yes, I am just your rich, lonely friend with nothing better to do but take you in whirlwind adventures,” Daichi explained, then with a cheeky grin, added, “But I can be your sugar daddy if you want.” 

Suga punched him in the side. 

***

“This is gonna be bad,” Suga murmured to Daichi once Tōru’s laser-focused gaze alighted on them. They’d barely made it across the threshold of the western-style bar, for fuck’s sake. The chatter of voices and music would have been overwhelming in any other circumstance, but Suga had never longed so powerfully to run towards the crowd if it meant avoiding this interaction.

“Act normal, or it’s gonna be worse,” Daichi ordered through a pleasant smile. 

“Suga-chan!” Tōru called as he approached with open arms. Trying not to think about the fact that he had come to Tōru’s party with his personally contacted demon, Suga slapped on a cheerful grin and hugged his friend. “I’m glad you came!”

“I wouldn’t miss sending you off to Argentina,” Suga said, though just half a year earlier he would have been doing exactly that. It was funny what could change because of one questionable decision. Considering the presence of his questionable decision, he avoided the eager eyes of his best friend and looked at Daichi. “Tōru, this is Sawamura Daichi. Daichi, Oikawa Tōru.”

“Nice to meet you,” Daichi replied with perfect politeness that Suga knew Tōru did not deserve. The taller man looked ravenous for information. 

“Likewise,” Tōru said breezily, not bothering to hide his calculating once-over of the devil. “You’re too handsome to be a stereotypical rich pervert. What’s your deal?” 

Suga groaned and rolled his eyes skyward for patience, but Daichi had no such reservations. “Are you implying that the only people who’d want to be Suga’s friends are creeps?” the devil retorted with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow. “That seems unfair.” It almost gave Suga a headache, how fast he whipped his gaze from the ceiling back to Daichi, who shot him a wink. 

Not missing a beat, Tōru gripped Suga’s chin in his slender fingers and said, “Can you blame me for thinking the worst? He’s too cute for his own good.” 

Oh, no, the fire was building in his cheeks. Suga wriggled his way out of Tōru’s grip before his face was ablaze. “Quit talking like I’m not here,” he complained. “I’m getting a drink.” 

Tōru entwined their arms and yanked Suga from the entry, but not before Suga snagged Daichi’s sleeve. Tōru dragged the human train further into the bar yammering, “I bet you haven’t seen most of these people in a year. It’s so nice to have everyone all in one place!” 

He knew he should’ve been paying attention as Tōru explained who was there and what people had been doing, but Suga couldn’t focus. Every few seconds he cast a worried look over his shoulder at his otherworldly friend, who looked placid in a way that caused Suga to wonder what laid beneath the surface. At his obvious worrying, a crooked grin pulled at Daichi’s face, a soothing and familiar reassurance. Suga exhaled, kept his grip on Daichi’s wrist, and turned his attention back to Tōru who wedged his way into open bar space. “Put his stuff on my tab!” Tōru shouted when the bartender came over, pointing at Suga. “I’ll take a gin and tonic.”

Suga protested picking up his tab but Tōru wouldn’t relent, so he turned and asked, “A whiskey sour, please.”

“A paloma and four tequila shots,” Daichi added as he pulled out his wallet.

“Heavy drinker, Sawamura?” Tōru quipped. 

Daichi shot him an incredulous side-eye. “One for each of us and one for your partner, if he wants it.” 

Tōru’s eyes lit up and he snatched his gin as soon as it hit the counter. “If he doesn’t then I’ll take it for him,” he chirped. “Add four more of those shots, please!” he called at the bartender before he turned around, who looked for confirmation from Daichi. 

“I feel sorry for Iwaizumi tonight,” Suga intoned. Tōru punched his shoulder and Daichi snorted. “No, wait,” Suga corrected. “I feel sorry for him constantly.” 

Tōru shrieked his indignation but the bartender returned with the remaining drinks, lime wedges and several salt shakers. “Alright Suga, I’m putting your man to work. Bring the drinks; we’re over in a good corner spot!” There was no space for argument, so Suga adopted an apologetic smile he would wear several times throughout the night and shrugged at Daichi. 

His friend seemed to be taking it in stride. He nabbed a tray from the bartender and loaded it with their drinks. “High maintenance,” he grinned.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” Suga noted. “Will you make sure I don’t drink too much? I don’t think I’m supposed to with this medication.” 

“Chaperone Suga tonight. Got it,” Daichi remarked and bowed at the waist. Suga giggled.

They wove through the modest crowd to where Suga had seen Tōru disappear and immediately Suga pinpointed their group. Iwaizumi, for one, was trying to wrangle Tōru into a seat. Beside him leaned into each other with matching twin smirks were their friends from high school, Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro. But Suga’s face split into a wide grin at a bouncy set of orange curls making conversation with someone he didn’t recognize. “Hinata!”

Shōyō Hinata whipped around to find the source of his name, then broke into an equally ecstatic smile at the sight of his former captain. He leapt over the person he was talking to and wrapped Suga in a tight hug that almost made him fumble his glass. “Suga-san! I haven’t seen you in forever!” he cried. “Can we hang out sometime? I need to give you my new number because Kageyama broke my last phone. Oh! Kageyama would want to see you too! I’ll give you his number! Suga-san, we’re going to the Olympics! Did you know?” 

It was impossible to be anything but joyful when faced with such genuine brightness. “I missed you, Shō-kun,” he sighed happily, tousling his junior’s hair. “Of course I want your number! Why don’t you just give mine to Kageyama and he can text me if he wants to.” 

“Geh, he’ll never do it if someone doesn’t text him first,” Shōyō grumbled, his cheery face dropping into a scowl as he opened his phone. When he handed it to Suga to input his number, he seemed to notice Daichi hovering close to Suga’s back and thrust his hand into his space. “I’m Hinata Shōyō!” he grinned. “Suga was my volleyball captain in high school! Are you friends? Ooh, are those drinks for us? Let me help you!” Without awaiting an answer he took the tray from Daichi’s hand with a wobble and whipped around to great cheers from the rest of the group. 

“He’s a walking hurricane,” Suga whispered in Daichi’s ear, “but there’s literally no one nicer. He won’t remember I have his phone for like, five minutes. All you have to do is get him going about volleyball and he’ll be your best friend.” 

“ _He’s_ on the Olympic team? I thought you have to be tall to play volleyball,” the devil whispered back. 

Suga snorted, “Don’t let him hear you say that!” 

“Oi! No secret conversations!” Tōru bellowed in their direction. “Get over here so we can toast to my impending annihilation of the J-League!” His proclamation was met with jeers but nobody argued about shots. When everyone had a glass and lime in hand, Matsukawa spoke up first, his voice flat, “To Oikawa finally coming out of the closet. How could any of us have known.” 

“No, to Oikawa finally getting those butt implants he so desperately needs,” a deadpan Hanamaki corrected. 

Iwaizumi sputtered into his elbow while Oikawa grew steadily more red. Suga piped up, “Oikawa Tōru? I thought this was the Ushijima Wakatoshi fanclub meeting.” 

“I hate you motherfuckers!” Tōru shouted before throwing back his drink to a chorus of cheers and clinking glasses. “Iwa-chan is the only one who loves me,” he lamented. When Iwaizumi made a noncommittal noise, Tōru threw himself at Shōyō with an amended cry of, “Shōyō is the only one who loves me!” 

The giggling red-head threw a hand around Oikawa’s waist and guided him back into Iwaizumi’s arms before asking an animated question lost to the rising noise of their little corner. Suga started when his untouched tequila was taken from his hand and replaced by his whiskey. He realized he’d been staring at Iwaizumi and Oikawa. “Trade you for your jacket,” Daichi said, his own already hanging on the back of a chair and accompanied by a handmade scarf. It was one of the few times Suga had seen him out and about without a tailored button-up and slacks, and still he made a plain black long sleeve and jeans look expensive. Daichi made quick work of Suga’s shot and pulled out a chair at the table for him. 

“Thanks,” Suga sighed as he took a sip from his whiskey and sank into his seat. “Thanks for coming at all, actually.” 

Daichi scooted closer, chair scraping across the sticky floor until their knees touched. The contact alleviated the sour feeling in Suga’s chest that lingered from the display of Tōru and Hajime’s quiet affection. “It’s nice of you to let me meet your friends,” he said with the quiet marvel reminiscent of his reaction to receiving a gift. 

“It’s nice to remember that I have friends,” Suga admitted around the rim of his glass. “I can’t believe I’ve spent so much time keeping to myself.” 

“Ah! Suga-san!” interjected Hinata who came sliding across the table where he remained perched after his stop. “Did I leave my phone with you? Oh! And I never got your name,” he added with a chagrined look at Daichi.

Both Suga and Daichi laughed and the former drew the phone in question from his back pocket. “This is Sawamura Daichi,” Suga introduced. “Just call him Daichi. He’s my guest tonight.” 

Hinata’s amber eyes lit up and he grabbed Daichi’s outstretched hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you! Do you play volleyball? Everyone here does. Or used to, at least. I don’t really know the others as well as Iwaizumi and Oikawa.” 

“I’ve never played,” the devil replied, his gaze sliding over to Suga, “but I wouldn’t mind trying.” 

The red-head looked dismayed and then elated. He shoved his thumb into his chest and boasted, “I can teach you all the basics, so let’s play together sometime! You both can come to the gym when we aren’t running a practice! Which isn’t very often, actually, so I’ll plan it out.”

“What role do you play?” Daichi asked politely of Hinata, who all but glowed to be asked about his favorite topic. Between himself and Hinata, Suga figured they did a decent job of explaining the basics of volleyball to Daichi. Three more rounds of drinks were ordered and the entire group joined in once word got out that Daichi didn’t know anything about volleyball. Oikawa gave a haughty explanation of tactics before Matsukawa roped him into provoking Iwaizumi into showing everyone the best way to receive. Even amidst giggles, it was a joke he whiffed until Hanamaki recapped, “So you’re saying the key to receiving properly is staying loose and relaxed so you can adjust until the last moment?” At which point Iwaizumi turned an even brighter shade of red than the alcohol in his veins could produce while the rest of them howled.

With a private laugh, Suga slipped away from the raucous conversation to pour himself a glass of water. A glance from afar showed Daichi nodding along solemnly to something Hinata was describing with animated hands. That could probably continue for as long as Hinata could speak, considering Daichi’s infinite patience. Without looking, he turned to refill his glass, only to bump into someone and nearly trip. 

“Sorry,” the giant of a man murmured as he steadied Suga before he fell. Suga recognized him as the only person he didn’t really know in the group, the one to whom Hinata had been talking when he arrived. Now up close, the man did look somewhat familiar, but he just couldn’t place him. 

“My bad. I know this is absurd, but I didn’t see you,” Suga joked. The man was built like a mountain, though he seemed considerably less intimidating than Suga would have expected. “How do I know you? I swear I’ve seen you before.”

The man looked sheepish and rubbed a hand through his loosely styled undercut. “Ah, I’m Hyakuzawa Yūdai. I’m on the team with Hinata and Iwaizumi this summer, but, um, back in high school our teams played each other once.”

Suga snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Ah! You’re the guy Hinata was freaking out about for being so tall! He kept saying something stupid, like, ‘if I could meld with a small shark, I’d be as tall as him,’ before the match! I’m Sugawara Kōshi, but just call me Suga.” He threw up a peace sign and added, “I was the deadbeat Karasuno captain. My vice Ennoshita was on the court more than I was.” 

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Suga,” Yūdai said with a soft smile. “Do you still play?”

“Nah, there’s no time. I’m a teacher! Third grade.” Suga said. “Obviously volleyball panned out for you.”

Yūdai brightened with the same enthusiasm as all the other volleyball nerds in the room when their sport was mentioned. “I definitely never dreamed of loving it so much. Much less making the Olympic team.” At the mention of it, a shy look overcame him and he redirected, “How do you like teaching? I bet that’s hard. Kids are fun but god, the energy it must take out of you.” 

Suga blinked in surprise. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “It definitely has its moments. They’re typically so cute but e-very now and then, wow. I could strangle them.” His eyes flew open wide and he added, “Not seriously, of course! Sorry, no one ever asked me about teaching so I don’t have any socially appropriate responses to shoot back.” 

“It’s all right. I could strangle Miya sometimes, though that would probably be significantly more acceptable,” Yūdai admitted.

“He’s the one with the punchable face, right? And the twin with the somehow less punchable face?”

The serious man barked out a short laugh, deep and genuine. Moments later, they were joined at the water cooler by Iwaizumi, who said, “Count me in for jokes at Atsumu’s expense.” Yūdai greeted Iwaizumi with a clap on his shoulder and made space for him to join their little circle. 

As nice as Iwaizumi was beneath his brusque exterior, it was hard for Suga to look at him. Surely Tōru would have told him about his confession, but Iwaizumi didn’t seem to feel awkward about talking to him now. How was that possible? Illogically, Suga wished for some sort of confrontation even if it meant being ground into a pulp by Iwaizumi’s unfairly large arms. Only things pertaining to Oikawa got under Iwaizumi’s skin, so surely Suga’s presence should elicit some kind of reaction. Except it didn’t and Iwaizumi was as unflappable as ever as he asked Suga about how his students fared that year and whether or not he had plans for summer break yet. 

_What if Tōru didn’t say anything because it’s embarrassing?_ he thought, then, _Maybe Tōru wasn’t even bothered._ His knuckles went white around his glass. He had to get a grip. Breathe, redirect. Of course Tōru had been bothered by his absence. He’d told him as much when they’d first started texting again, and he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from his partner. Iwaizumi was just being nice, because he was a nice person and that’s all there was to it. He repeated it to himself several times while wearing a smile that he hoped looked engaged in the conversation. 

“Are you okay, Suga?” 

The teacher grimaced at the question Iwaizumi directed at him. Apparently he did not look engaged. “Gotta pee,” he said with one last swig of his water and a quick turn. His stomach twisted further into knots when he saw Matsukawa and Hanamaki apparently teasing Hinata over something that had him bright red, but no Daichi or Tōru. “Oh, no no no,” he muttered as he forced his way the short distance to the table. “Where did Tōru go?” he demanded, interrupting whatever friendly torture Tōru’s friends were inflicting upon Hinata. 

Suga was beyond grateful when all he received was a smirk from Matsukawa and the truth. “In the bathroom playing twenty questions. Is your buddy _actually_ super rich?”

“Can he get me a job?” Hanamaki added. 

“This freeloader has been living on my couch for _months_. Please help him get a job.” 

Hinata turned his wide eyes to Suga and asked, “Did you really get to go to Hawaii?”

Resisting the urge to panic, Suga covered his face in his hands and forced himself to inhale. “I’ll be back,” he answered in lieu of actual response. The three were tipsy enough not to care, though Hinata waved before Hanamaki pounced on him- literally and figuratively- as Suga stomped towards the bathroom. Tōru had made his intentions clear as to why he had invited Daichi, so Suga wasn’t sure why he was so angry about it. Before their falling out, Suga would have been thrilled for Tōru to investigate someone’s intentions towards him. It would have been twisted proof that he cared, if Suga had been making friends outside Tōru to begin with. Now he burned with irritation. Tōru didn’t think Suga could take care of himself enough to make friends with the right kinds of people. He, the put-together, all-knowing Oikawa Tōru, would have to take matters into his own hands and save Suga from himself. Well, it was too late for that anyway, all things considered. 

Off in a hallway quieter than the rest of the bar, Suga drew up short at the men’s bathroom to calm himself before he entered. The truth, like always, lay somewhere in the middle. Rationally, it was unfair to blame Tōru for wanting to talk to Daichi. Suga knew that Tōru believed he was helping take care of him, because it wasn’t as though the Suga he remembered showed any evidence to the contrary. A year ago Tōru had to force Suga to do his laundry- of course he would be suspicious of some stranger sweeping in and apparently plying him with everything he wanted. The Suga he knew was a vulnerable idiot who would absolutely fall for the first ploy that made him feel better, the type of person who’d sell his soul to the devil. 

He had to be calm. He had to show he was _better_. Suga breathed and— 

The bathroom door sprang open and out stumbled Tōru and Daichi, the former laughing with a good-natured arm slung over the shorter man’s shoulders. “Ah! Suga-chan!” Tōru sang. He abandoned Daichi to twine an arm through Suga’s. “It didn’t take you long to find us. I bet it was Mattsun wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Suga admitted with a wary look at Daichi, who grinned and flashed an unsubtle thumbs up. “Should we go—“

“Look, Suga-chan. He may be a stuffy businessman, but your new buddy might be alright, alright?” Tōru slurred. “I mean, call me if he messes with you because I can have Iwa-chan beat him up!” 

Suga pinched the bridge of his nose but swallowed his complaints when Daichi slotted himself against his side, opposite of Tōru. “I passed his test, _Suga-chan_ ,” the devil said with a cheeky grin. 

“I don’t need Iwaizumi to watch out for me,” Suga huffed, more due to the strain of two athletic bodies weighing into him than annoyance. The irritation he’d been battling as he’d steeled himself to enter the bathroom fizzled anticlimactically now that his two friends seemed to be getting along. He shuffled a few steps with his heavy parasites to make room for someone trying to use the facilities.

“It would be an honor for Iwaizumi to beat me up,” Daichi intoned, earning an indignant noise from Tōru. 

Suga continued his shuffling and tried not to laugh. “How are both of you so drunk already?” 

“I never drink,” the two in question echoed, before laughing together. Another failed step sent the trio tripping into the wall. 

“Oh my god, get off of me already!” Suga cried as a small smile finally broke through on his face. 

Both complied, but Tōru immediately wrapped Suga in another hug, burying his face into ashen hair. “I’m so proud of you, Suga- no, don’t groan, I’m trying to be serious here! I was so worried but look at how good you are now! Ah, I’m gonna miss you!”

The confession seized his throat, and Suga found himself clinging to Tōru’s back in response. This wasn’t what he envisioned at all: it was so rare for such a sincere quality to find its way into Tōru’s tone. Such a thing was devastating, and Suga’s heart gave a bittersweet throb. It was so good, being on the receiving end of praise from Tōru, but his surprise reached a new level when Tōru mumbled, “Sawamura said I didn’t believe in you. I think he was right. I'm glad you got what you needed.” 

Words abandoned him as Tōru straightened and pushed him away at arm’s length. Even drunk, Tōru appeared to have reached the limits of his vulnerability. “I’m gonna get another drink!” the athlete exclaimed as he pranced back into the bar area past the stunned Suga. He started as Daichi shuffled to his side, hands in his pockets and looking embarrassed. “What did you tell him?” Suga questioned. 

Sawamura shuffled his feet and sighed, “I mean, he was asking a bunch of questions: where do you work, how’d you meet, what do I think about you. Which, I mean whatever, right? Those are easy. But then he started off on this rant about how you were delicate and needed protecting and I told him he was full of shit.” With the same, excruciating honesty he always possessed, Daichi directed his glassy eyes upward and said, “I said he wasn’t giving you enough credit and that you’re hella strong. You just needed a push to remember.” 

Suga chewed at his lip to ground himself as Daichi’s words eased the weight wound around his heart. Even as he questioned it- because Daichi had seen him at his absolute worst- his heart clung stubbornly to the sentiment. “You’re lying,” he mumbled halfheartedly. Daichi couldn’t truly think Suga was strong, but in spite of his job he had never lied to Suga either. It warred with what Suga believed about himself, that unwavering confidence Daichi had in him. 

The devil took his face in hand and forced him to meet his eyes. There was a pink dusting across his cheeks and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, but his gaze was fierce, solid, and uncompromising. “Suga,” he confessed, his voice low and serious, “you must know by now that I… I suck at lying.” A sputtering laugh escaped Suga before he could contain it and Daichi scowled. The firm grasp on Suga’s face turned into pinching his cheeks. “You jerk,” Daichi growled, though the frown he wore looked to be half a smile. 

“Sorry, it all just… it means a lot,” Suga admitted. “I just don’t really know what to do with it.”

Daichi slung an arm around his shoulder, directed them back towards the noisy bar, and said, “Here’s what you do with it: you say, ‘Daichi you’re so cool; can I get you a drink?’” The devil then gasped, “Why yes Suga, you can!” 

Rolling his eyes, Suga directed a soft karate chop to Daichi’s gut, but the lightness in his chest lingered and he did as his friend suggested. When they returned, drinks in hand, to the drunken chaos of their group, the tension Suga had been carrying all evening dissipated. With all confrontations going much better than his anxious mind had feared, Suga allowed himself to enjoy one of the last nights Tōru would spend in Japan for a long time. 

  
  


Though, when the night ended there was nothing left to distract Suga from the drunken, almost-human, mess that was Daichi Sawamura. 

“‘M staying here tonight,” Daichi slurred when they stumbled out of the cab in front of Suga’s apartment. 

Suga huffed under his weight as the broad man threw his arm around Suga’s shoulder and leaned into him. “I know,” Suga grunted, fumbling for his keys. “Though you didn’t mention before that you can't really do your magic teleporting when you’re drunk. Where's home anyway? I never asked.” 

“Got a house in the mountains,” the devil drawled.

Suga gasped as he pushed Daichi into the warm little apartment ahead of him. “I’d love to see it.” 

There was a gentle sway to his friend’s movements as they shed their coats and scarves, but Daichi wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t hang them with care. All Suga’s eyes could track was the shape of his forearms peeking from rolled sleeves, and the lingering of his softened gaze on his handmade scarf. The combination of it all under the haze of warm lamp light and a healthy buzz struck him: Daichi looked so human that it was easy to forget he wasn’t anymore. Human meant attainable, and attainable caused a skip in Suga’s heartbeat that hadn’t been there before. It only intensified when the devil turned the weight of his eyes on Suga, flashed him an equally warm smile and said, “I’d be happy to show you.”

Suddenly eager to end the emotional rollercoaster of the night, Suga forced a laugh and pushed Daichi bodily towards the bathroom. Oh, god, the muscles shifting under his hands- he can never drink around Daichi again. “Yeah, cool sounds good, so, go take a shower or whatever and please don’t drown!” he rambled, shutting the door behind his friend’s back so he could cover his red face in his hands. “What the _fu-uck,_ ” he moaned under his breath. What was actually wrong with him? Being attracted to Tōru had broken him enough to sell his soul. Letting an attraction to Daichi go beyond eye-candy-appreciation was fatal. 

Though really, if he thought about it, he was already a terminal case—

Suga slapped his cheeks then winced. Then smiled. Nope. He wouldn’t go there, not again. He had just over two years to live. He wouldn’t end it in the same state in which he’d begun the contract- a heartbroken, depressed shell of a person. With a willful ignorance, Suga turned his thoughts towards school plans for the rest of the year since it was the only topic in which no one else was entwined. He folded his clothes, gathered his pajamas and took notes for his class, forgetting entirely that he’d agreed for Daichi to stay with him until the man stumbled out of the bathroom. He was clad in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, hair damp and breath minty as he collapsed onto the floor by Suga’s feet. “Your turn,” he yawned. 

Suga started, realizing he’d been staring at the red hue of Daichi’s ears due to the heat of the bath. “R-Right,” he said as he shoved his notes onto his bookshelf and scrambled to the bathroom. He took a moment to steady himself against the sink, eyed himself in the mirror and hissed, “Don’t make this weird.” 

Scolding himself seemed to momentarily steady the dizzy buzz of his thoughts, enough that he started his nightly routine. When he was rinsing off, he heard a noisy shuffling from the other room, a solid thump, followed by more shuffling. Weird. He frowned and began to rush. Still toweling his wet hair, Suga threw open the door and rushed into the main room.

“Daichi, what— _what the hell_?” 

His dinky bed had been replaced with something that took up far too much of the room to be practical. A few steps into the space and Suga was already bumping into its side. His meager furniture was cramped into the corners, almost invisible in the massive bed’s wake. He was just on the right side of tipsy to offer no more than a sigh at the proud grin on his drunk friend’s face. “I’m forcing you to live better,” Daichi declared. 

Suga continued to stare at the new, fanciful addition to his studio apartment, something Daichi seemed to take as a good reaction. “Feel the blanket,” the devil suggested. “It’s so-o soft.” Without waiting for an answer, he took Suga’s hand and forced him to stroke it. The warmth of alcohol in his cheeks only intensified; he swallowed hard. “Best blanket ever,” Daichi cooed. “Do you like it?”

“It’s definitely soft,” Suga agreed as he drew his hand back to his chest. This was not what he’d envisioned when Daichi invited himself to stay the night. He was planning to sleep on the floor, not _together_. They’d napped together before, sure, but that was different. _Now_ Suga was having all these weird thoughts he shouldn’t have, and how was he supposed to sleep next to Daichi like that? 

The devil didn’t give him much choice, though, and pushed him into the bed face first. “You gotta sleep,” he ordered, and Suga wished he hadn’t rolled over with the intent to argue since Daichi was climbing into bed next to him. Like nothing was abnormal, he continued chattering as he drew back the Blanket of Otherworldly Softness, “You don’t get enough sleep! Eight hours a night, Suga! You need to stay in this bed until-“ he looked at his watch before tossing it to the floor- “noon. Wow! I can’t believe it’s already almost four.” 

“No promises,” Suga croaked, ripping his eyes away from Daichi’s arms before he was caught. It was- _of course_ \- the perfect bed, cushiony and laden with blankets and pillows. He could sprawl and probably not even make contact with the other occupant. _Don’t make it weird,_ he reminded himself as he also slipped under the- oh, how could cotton be so _soft?_ “Oh my god,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers across the silky-smooth top sheet. 

“I know,” Daichi replied smugly. “I told you I’m making you live better.” 

High on luxury linen, Suga gushed, “I need a bigger place for this bed. I want a whole closet of sheets like this. I’m literally never moving again.” He buried his face into the downy pillow and heaved in the spicy, dark scent woven within. “Oh, god. It smells so good too. What is that?”

The other man didn’t reply and when Suga surfaced for air, he realized his error right away. It was written all over Daichi’s flustered, red face. “I-I just, they’re extras I knew were in my linen closet at home…” he stammered.

“Yep. Well, good night!” Suga blurted as he whipped onto his side to turn off the lamp which was tilted precariously on the floor on his side. 

_Don’t make it weird,_ he thought bitterly before falling into the best sleep of his life. 

***

12:25

Daichi was gone when Suga woke up, but in his place, there was a fresh set of sheets tied with a ribbon. When Suga pressed his nose into the pile, he drew away disappointed at the clean, sterile smell of brand new cloth. Still, he nestled back into his mattress cloud, pulled out his phone, and started scrolling through available homes in the prefecture. Two years left: it was time to start living in style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add in that this was anecdotally my experience with a good anti-depressant. For the sakes of Suga and everyone reading, we’ll skip the sexual side effects, haha. But that to say, I recognize that’s definitely not how it is for everyone.


	3. Month 12-15: Things Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH.  
> MY.  
> GOD.
> 
> I cannot tell you how many iterations of this chapter I've edited. IT WAS LONGER THAN THIS AND HAD MORE CONTENT. It was totally different at points. I've rearranged it a thousand times. I was trying to finish this story in 6 chapters, 6 months per chapter. I like to try and keep things concise BUT NOOOO. NOT THIS TIME. I'm a terrible writer who just goes on and on. Idk how long it's going to be now! It just felt like everything was important enough to stay in so, here were are :| I'll try to chop the subsequent chapters into smaller pieces, I promise!
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> I'll put a TW for the chapter for like... Idk what you'd call it... A willing but mentally discordant minor sexual encounter. It's consensual the entire time, but it's like how sometimes you're like 'I'll give something a go and see if my mind catches up to my body' but it just... doesn't. I find most all physical interaction to be that way so I don't find it triggering, but I thought maybe it could be to others. 
> 
> So it starts roughly at: He opened his eyes lazily  
> And ends around: He cut himself off when
> 
> It's kind of a lot because I think it's a needed comparison for later.
> 
> Chapter Soundtrack: Joji- "Slow Dancing in the Dark."

## MONTH 12

In one year, Suga could say he’d grown accustomed to having a devil pop in and out of his house. And, as if Daichi’s deliciously fragrant sheets had been the final straw, Suga was also adjusting to a more luxurious lifestyle. Under Daichi’s guidance, he’d acquired a house, for starters. It was a beautiful little one-story which provided far more space than he strictly needed, but he’d already committed to the magnificent mattress and it needed a home. And an equally magnificent frame. Then, with all the extra space, it was easy to fall to Daichi’s suggestions for things to fill it. 

It was how he came to be sitting at his kitchen table- a real table with actual chairs- sipping a cappuccino courtesy of the fancy machine on his counter, when Daichi slunk in. He was wearing both a set of athletic clothes and a shifty look in his eye that immediately made Suga suspicious. His suspicion grew as his devil casually set a strangely lumpy envelope on the table and said nothing of it on his way to the coffee maker.

“Good morning?” Suga ventured, twisting to watch the other man pour himself what was left in the pot. “Make yourself at home?”

“He says, as though I don’t have a room in this house,” Daichi replied. Suga could hear the grin in his voice and he went warm around the collar at the blatant tease. It wouldn’t have felt right if he hadn’t designated one of the rooms for his mythical part-time roommate, even if it was completely superfluous for someone who could, at any time, teleport to their own home. It was a plan both terrible and amazing for the same reason: it meant Daichi stayed over even if he didn’t necessarily have to more often than not. 

“What’s in the envelope?” Suga huffed to take the figurative heat off of his obvious fondness.

The devil turned, mimicking surprise as he did. “What envelope?” Suga adopted his most withering look of disapproval- the one which used to make his kouhai tremble- but the other man simply smirked around his cup, “Oh. _That_ envelope. It’s a gift for you.” 

If he hadn’t been suspicious before, he certainly would have been then. He did _not_ trust that package. Skepticism dripping from his tone, he asked, “Why? What’s in it, Daichi? Why is it lumpy?” 

“It’s a present!” the brunet defended, though being as guileless as he was, he looked ready to vibrate out of his skin with anticipation. “Happy Crossroad Day!”

Suga blinked, then checked the date on his phone: a year since he’d sold his soul for whatever his heart desired and the chance to be happy. Time really flew, and he’d spent the first six months in and coming out of a depressed haze. He really needed to start making better use of his time. Now a little more sure of the suspect envelope, Suga slid it closer, saying, “Some might call it bad taste to commemorate the day a man sells himself into eternal damnation.” 

“Well, you have no taste, so.” 

“I walked into that one, I’ll give you that.” 

“Just open it.” 

Suga scoffed, “I only have two more years before I yeet this mortal coil right off. Let me savor this!” 

Daichi cringed. “You really just used that in a sentence.”

Suga stuck out his tongue, but finally obliged and ripped open the flap. Daichi started giggling in the background as he puzzled over the contents for a moment, then Suga let out a howl of laughter. “What! What the fuck is this!” he wheezed a minute later when he finally caught his breath. The laughter had been contagious and Daichi was still doubled over the kitchen counter next to his coffee. Carefully Suga lifted the handmade card with hands shaking from the effort of not dissolving into another fit. “Is this what I think it is, you sicko?” he gasped. 

The question only made Daichi sputter and collapse to the wood floor, holding his side. “I’m not sorry,” he finally managed. 

The card featured a poorly drawn rendition of the two of them at the crossroads, complete with them kissing and Suga’s face colored in a violent red. It was offset by the devil’s neat handwriting across the top, where it said, ‘Thanks for your soul.’ In drawing-Daichi’s misshapen hand was the source of the lumpy envelope: one of Suga’s baby teeth glued onto the page. The card crinkled in Suga’s hand as he clutched it and tried to breathe. “Why do you still have those!” he screeched. 

Daichi wailed, “I tried to get rid of them _but I can’t_! I’ve never even tried to get rid of a contracted offering until now. Your box of teeth keeps popping up on my desk! I’m _cursed_! I need you to suffer with me!”

Suga collapsed onto the floor next to Daichi and ground the card into his chest. “Take my teeth to your grave, you ungrateful prick!” 

Their shared gasping laughter turned into a wrestling match over the fate of the card, punctuated by barked curses and choked giggles. Suga was forced to concede defeat after Daichi had managed to wrangle him into something he’d only seen in MMA matches on TV. “I’ll take it back,” he gurgled around Daichi’s leg. Oh, god, his arm was totally locked against his groin too; this was going to become an entirely different scenario if Daichi didn’t relinquish his hold. “Am I released from our contract if I suffocate on your thighs?”

At once Daichi loosened his grip and scrambled to untangle his legs from Suga’s arms. Completely disheveled, he offered a flustered, “Sorry.” 

“Not sorry enough to accept my teeth.” 

“No, not that sorry.” 

From the floor by his feet Suga retrieved the card, which now sported a number of new rips and creases. It was the stupidest thing he’d ever seen but it brought an equally stupid smile to his face. “You know, if you had used magazine cutouts for the words and letters, it really would’ve taken this thing to the next level,” he commented dryly. 

“Are you really criticizing my artistic vision?” Daichi gasped. “This is a masterpiece!”

Suga tried and failed not to dissolve into more giggles. He managed at least to keep his breath and asked, “Do I have to give you something else to make up for this?” 

Popping an incredulous eyebrow, the devil asked, “Do you really think that I was factoring in your teeth when I made our contract?”

Try as he might not to think of it, Suga glanced at the card’s drawing and ventured, “How does one kiss make up for this kind of contract, though?” 

Daichi stiffened and dropped his gaze to his feet, the jovial mood of earlier growing somber. Suga couldn’t see a reason for it, but the other man looked contrite. “You didn’t want to give it up, and you can’t give it to anyone else,” he said. “That made it worth something. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For that.” 

“It’s not like you made me do something I didn’t want to do,” Suga mumbled, through the warmth growing on his cheeks. 

“It’s different,” Daichi asserted with a shake of his head. “ _You’re_ different. I don’t know how to say this.” His fingers tangled momentarily in his hair as he sorted out his thoughts. “All my prior contractors have been real pieces of shit, Suga. I know it makes me shitty too, but I didn’t mind taking things they thought were important. I figured you would turn out to be the same, so that’s why I…” He winced, ashamed, a look Suga did not like on Daichi at all. “You deserved better than that and I’m sorry I took your first kiss.” 

The way Daichi fumbled through his apology, as sincere as everything else he did, was painfully endearing. Before his filter could stop him, Suga blurted, “I don’t mind! I mean, really, I knew it wasn’t going to happen otherwise, and I didn’t want to die not having kissed anyone. So, it was kinda selfish in a way. I could’ve walked away but I didn’t, you know.” 

It might have been commonplace for Suga, but not for Daichi: by the time Suga had rushed out his confession, Daichi’s face was flushed a bright red. Oh, no, Suga wasn’t going to be able to handle this day, not if this was how the morning was going. It wasn’t even 7am and he’d already managed to get a mouthful of muscular thighs and the sight of their stolid owner blushing with a shy smile. Suga whipped around in retreat and reached for his phone. After a few rings the line picked up and he greeted, “Hi, Yamamoto-san, it’s Sugawara Kōshi. Yeah, sorry, I can’t make it today. Uh huh. I’m aware the school year just started. If the principal has a problem he can take it up with my doctor. Yes, I’ll bring him a note. Yep, have a good day.” He ended the call and muttered, “Biiiiitch.” 

It seemed his phone call had been enough time for Daichi to regain his composure. He inclined his head and asked, “You’re calling in?”

Suga smoothed his irreparably wrinkled shirt, courtesy of their wrestling match, and shrugged. “I think we should do something fun today. Maybe restart on the right foot. I don’t want you to feel guilty about that night, ‘cause I certainly don’t have any bad feelings about it.” 

“You could tell me if you did,” Daichi said. Even if his posture was more collected, his voice bled soft and unsure around the edges. 

“Oh my god, what do you want me to say?” Suga demanded with an air of false exaggerated indignation. “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life and I would happily sell my soul again for another. Sheesh.” 

Suga tried not to think about what percentage of truth that statement held. It at least earned a laugh that eased the remaining tension between them. “It’s still your only kiss. You’re going to need to get out there if you want to compare it to anything,” Daichi retorted. Suga aimed a kick at his shin which missed. 

“Well, maybe my next one will be 10,000 times better!” he huffed. Daichi muttered something disbelieving under his breath, then ran from the room laughing when Suga’s next kick did connect with his butt. Alone again, he clutched the table in a shaky grip and let his head fall to the wood with a thunk. Now that it was over, that entire interaction left him feeling as though he’d just finished a marathon. The courage required to say all that had gone back to whence it came, leaving Suga a trembling, blushing mess. His hazel eyes drifted to the card with its silly graphic, still crumpled on the table, and Suga flipped it open. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the short note Daichi had penned inside. 

_Suga,_

_I should have known by this weird offering that you were something different. I hope you’ve had a good year so far. It’s been one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Let’s make this one even better._

_Daichi_

It wasn’t poetic or lengthy, but Suga wouldn’t have expected more than the frank honesty for which the other man was known. He might think Suga was the anomaly, but it was Daichi who subverted expectations. Suga never dreamed of being tied for three years to such an incredible person. He wished he could appreciate it for what it was, wished it didn’t cause the change in his heart’s pace. What was it about him that made him desire the most impossible things? He’d redirected himself a dozen times since that party two months ago, tried to speak reason to his heart, but the stubborn thing refused to listen. “I’m such an idiot,” he sighed as he straightened and folded the card to fit in his pocket. 

## MONTH 13

To: Tōru 

_Tōru. Help._

_From: Tōru_

_What did you do_

_To: Tōru_

_Harsh but fair._

_I think I like him._

[ **incoming call** ] 

Was it weird to talk to the man he used to be in love with about the person he liked? It was probably a relief for Tōru to know Suga wasn’t hung up on him still, but Suga had to admit it felt awkward to have Tōru’s voice on the other end of the line as he admitted his changed feelings. 

“What happened, Mister ‘We’re Just Friends?’” Tōru drawled once Suga accepted the call. Even thousands of miles away Suga could envision his smug grin. 

Suga groaned and flopped onto his heavenly plush bed. “Yeah, yeah. Things changed, okay?” 

“When?” Tōru questioned. 

“I don’t know,” Suga sighed. “Maybe your going-away party?”

“You know what I’m going to say about it.”

A piteous whine escaped his mouth along with the remainder of his dignity. He did know what Tōru was going to say and moaned, “I can’t.”

Tōru clicked his tongue and snapped, “Why not? He’s single, you’re single. He’s hot, you’re hot. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, I’m failing to see the problem. Don’t tell me he’s totally straight. I did not get that vibe _at all_.” 

There was too much he couldn’t say about it, of course, but he needed something to sway Tōru. “He, um… can’t date because of his job,” Suga ventured. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Even if Suga entertained the idea, he couldn’t imagine Daichi being willing to date the person whose soul he’d eventually need to harvest. Logically, it was understandable, but… 

For once, Tōru had nothing to say, only offering a soft, “Huh.” 

“I’m happy being his friend, honestly. He’s a great friend,” Suga said to fill the growing silence. 

“You’re such a liar,” Tōru interjected. “You wouldn’t sound so mopey about it if you were fine with it. Besides, I got the feeling from our chat in the bathroom that he would totally be willing to go out with you. Or at least pound you into the mattress.”

Flushed scarlet to his ears in an instant, Suga hissed, “You’re so fucking vulgar!”

“Aren’t you curious about what he said?”

He scrunched his nose in annoyance and muttered a begrudging, “Maybe.” 

“So, keep in mind I might have been pretty drunk so—“

“Oh my god! I already don’t believe you!”

Tōru shot back a short, “Shut up! Listen: first of all, he was going on and on about how you’re so sweet and funny; second, he did not hesitate for a second to call me out when I said you needed someone to take care of you; like, I was honestly impressed. And then it was when we were talking about you, he had the dopiest look on his face. Suga, I think that bastard is head over heels for you. Case closed, go forth and fuck.” 

“It’s not that easy!” Suga snapped. “I mean, how long did you like Iwaizumi but didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to mess things up? You _know_ it’s not so simple! Maybe he’s just being a respectful person? How can you tell it’s more?” 

Tōru offered a quiet apology. “That’s true,” he admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know, Suga. Sometimes you can’t really tell and you just have to take a chance.” He cleared his throat and added, with some hesitancy in his voice, “When you told me that you, well, you must have felt some level of uncertainty. So why did you tell me anyway?”

Suga pouted at his ceiling. They’d never really talked about the disastrous confession in depth. Not outside Suga’s apology for the aftermath, anyway. “I just… it felt like it was eating me up inside,” he described. “Even though I knew it was going to ruin everything if I said something, I did it anyway.” 

“Well, luckily it didn’t ruin everything, huh?” Oikawa noted breezily. “And I think that just shows sometimes you just have to rip off the bandaid and hope for the best. If it turned out he didn’t feel the same, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Look at us!” 

“Easy for you to say,” Suga grumbled. “You’re not the one left with the broken heart.” 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tōru scoffed. “Look, if you’re so hell bent on being ‘just friends,’ why don’t you try dating other people? Or at least spending time with people that aren’t him? That helped, um, before, right?”

Suga pondered with a drawn out hum. “I guess I do have Hinata’s number now. I’ll see if he wants to hang out.”

Oikawa gasped then chirped, “Hey! Why don’t you get Hyakuzawa’s number? He’s bi, maybe single. I’m pretty sure. I’ll ask Iwa-chan. He’s kinda got the same vibe as Sawamura but in a taller package. Super chill, that’s why he and Iwaizumi get along so well. Get yourself out there!” 

“O-Oh, I don’t know. We only met that once. Wouldn’t that be kinda forward?” Suga hedged. Sure, the man had seemed nice and decently attractive, if not a bit too serious. But the idea of asking him to go out was enough to make him appear an insurmountable challenge. 

“That’s how the fuck dating works, Suga-chan. You can’t just wait for the perfect man to fall into your lap. Besides, not every relationship has to be forever. It might be fun for a little while, something which you have not enough of, and then if you _still_ have feelings for Daichi, you’ll know there’s no point in pretending you’re okay being ‘just friends.’”

 **“** God damn it, I hate you sometimes.”

“Because I’m so smart, I know. Let me know how it goes. I've gotta call Iwa-chan before it gets too late over there.”

Suga winced and pleaded, “Don’t tell him anything weird about Hyakuzawa.” 

Oikawa made a noncommittal noise. “Good night Suga!” 

“Tōru— fuck,” Suga hissed as the line clicked. He uttered a frustrated groan to the air. It’s not like it was the worst idea, but it was an intimidating one. If he was really going to commit to friendship only with Daichi- the smart choice, he reminded himself- then he needed to change his feelings before they became like they had with Tōru. Theoretically it would work if he just spent more time away from the man in question. Realistically it sounded impossible considering the nature of their business deal kept them in constant contact. 

Well, he decided, it wouldn’t hurt to just spend more time outside the house. He could do that and still see Daichi at home the rest of the time. He’d understand Suga wanting to make friends. He'd understand him trying to date. He’d even told him he should. The prospect twisted miserably in his gut, but he reminded himself again that it was the smart choice. 

As if on cue, his phone pinged: a text from Iwaizumi. The oily feeling in his stomach intensified and he unlocked his phone with a heavy feeling of trepidation. 

_I didn’t ask any questions. Trying to respect your privacy unlike Shittykawa._

Another message followed that was only the contact information for Hyakuzawa Yūdai. Suga pressed the screen to his forehead and emitted a keening whine. 

“Are you okay?” a voice called from the other side of his closed door. Blessed Daichi: even if he could appear wherever he wanted he held a healthy respect for Suga’s space. “That’s like the fifth angsty noise I’ve heard in ten minutes.” 

“Just Tōru doing shitty Tōru things,” he called back. Quickly, he tapped out, _Thanks, I’ll kill him,_ and hit send. 

Daichi laughed. “Well when you’re done dealing with that, wanna catch up on that baking show? Since I’m here now.” 

Suga perked up at the offer and ripped open his door. Daichi jumped at the sudden appearance but a smile spread across his face a moment later. He was in the casual clothes he seemed to wear more often these days. Suga could appreciate the snug fit of his joggers and- he shook his head, his own answering smile faltering as he tried to clear his thoughts. “TV sounds good,” he said. 

Daichi raised a brow but he didn’t say anything about the odd reaction. It made the roiling of Suga’s stomach begin anew when Daichi seemed to understand without a word said. He took a step back and jerked his head towards the hall and asked, “Couch?” 

Ugh. This didn’t feel good at all. He wanted to sit together in his bed and watch TV. Sometimes their legs ended up against each other when they watched TV in bed. So much different than the couch. 

“Yeah,” he muttered sullenly. “Couch.” 

## MONTH 14

The nature of Suga and Daichi’s relationship from the beginning was a business deal. Suga reminded himself of this every time he worried about asking for something. It did little to assuage the strange feeling he got when he opened his mouth to make a request. If he hadn’t consciously tried to put distance between them he suspected it wouldn’t have felt so strange. 

Daichi seemed to take it all in stride which was both a blessing and a curse. Like he could read his mind, he gave space when Suga was contemplating his ruinous feelings and the fact that having them was a disaster waiting to happen. The times when Suga forgot, though, were just as it had always been: easy, fun, and comfortable. During those moments Suga lost himself in the light touches, the playful banter. He didn’t have to think about Tōru’s repeated texting about whether or not he’d gone out with anyone yet, or Hyakuzawa’s contact information burning a hole through his pocket. 

As long as he made the effort to get out and connect with other people, it didn’t really matter if he spent the rest of his time with Daichi. Friends spend time with each other. It’s what he told himself, anyway, that he could do it all, have it all. Some things just weren’t worth giving up: movie time in bed, for example, or his weekly lesson planning time with which Daichi, having given up on convincing him to quit his job, had begun helping. Volleyball was one of those things he hoped endured the slow, awkward death of his feelings. 

It was an easy wish he felt good about, asking for time in a volleyball court together. The squeak of his shoes on the floor and the weight of the ball in his hand transported Suga to eighteen all over again. His worries then- entrance exams, and navigating a newly realized sexual orientation- were overwhelming at the time, but volleyball was always an escape. Even closer to thirty than twenty, staring at the net still imbued a calm that settled the stress built in his mind. Volleyball demanded focus; the rest could wait. 

Daichi’s presence was a welcome addition to the warm nostalgia of Suga’s high school memories. The way he slotted into his thoughts was as if he was meant to be there at each Interhigh, every practice. He ran them through warm ups ingrained in his muscle memory, then re-explained the basics, unhindered by a group of drunks. Talking wasn’t any kind of substitute, though, and he felt his cheeks would split from grinning as he wheeled over a bin of balls. 

“So this a volleyball,” Suga announced, wearing a shit-eating grin and holding aloft a blue and yellow ball. It was worth the dumb joke to see the flat annoyance on Daichi’s face, and less so when Daichi took advantage of Suga’s preoccupied hands and jammed a finger into his ribs. After a sharp yelp and a brief attempt for revenge- which Daichi easily avoided by holding Suga at arm’s length- Suga called for a truce. “You’re no fun, you fucking gorilla,” he complained. 

“That’s not what your mom said.” 

“‘Your mom’ jokes went out of style like twenty years ago,” Suga informed. “But at least we can skip the chapter on shit talk.”

Daichi was barely containing a laugh, which proved contagious. After a moment wherein he found himself holding his knees for support, Suga finally gasped, “Okay, okay! Shut up! Jeez, do you want to play or not!”

“Yes, sensei!” Daichi only just managed to catch the ball Suga hurled at him before it hit his chest. 

“Rule one is no catching balls,” Suga retorted. 

“That's what—“

“What does our contract say about me murdering you?” 

Daichi cut himself off with a grin, though it quickly melted into a soft frown. He sighed, “Sorry. Honestly I’m just nervous and my nervous self is apparently a frat boy circa 2000.”

Suga snorted. “Why the heck are you nervous?” 

The other man spun the ball in hand, a dizzy blur of color from which he didn’t lift his brown-eyed gaze. “I know it’s important to you. I also don’t want to look like an idiot.” 

“Well, unless you’re some kind of prodigy, you’re probably not going to be any good today,” Suga stated. “I’m pretty out of practice anyway. We’re going to be covered in bruises by tomorrow. It’s just supposed to be fun. Don’t worry about it.” 

A reluctant but grateful smile returned to Daichi’s face. “So _this_ is a volleyball,” he replied, tossing it back to Suga, who giggled. 

“Yep, mystery solved,” he said, tossing it back with its brethren. “We can start with some basic passes. Let me just show you the right form for a low receive.” He could feel Daichi’s nervous tension as he made adjustments to his clasped hands and nudged his feet just the slightest bit further apart. “I know Hanamaki was just giving Iwaizumi shit when he said this, but you do need to relax just a bit,” Suga offered as he stepped back to observe. 

Daichi wrinkled his nose, then straightened and shook out his arms and legs with a giant sigh. “Okay, I’m totally relaxed,” he grumbled as he settled back into position, looking possibly more stiff. “Just pass me the ball.” 

“Alright! I’m gonna do my best to get it right to you, but uh, like I said I’m out of practice,” Suga preemptively apologized. “Just let it pass you if it’s off. All you gotta try to do is connect with that spot on your forearms, okay?” The blond gave the ball an experimental twirl, then like he had done thousands of times before, he tossed it high overhead and set a clean pass arcing nice and slow towards his friend. When he was truly concentrating, Daichi radiated intensity. He shuffled a step, eyes never leaving the ball, and made contact - a little too close to his fingers, arms too bent to one side, Suga noted. Even if the angle was totally wrong and it rebounded somewhere too far to the left, the ball was up. Suga let out an enthusiastic cheer as Daichi shook out his arms and muttered, “Ow.” 

“Yeah, it definitely hurts when you’re not used to it,” Suga remarked, reaching for the next ball. “Get ready!”

“Wait—!”

Daichi scrambled as Suga tossed the ball and sent it over with a gentle bump of his own. Damn, that did hurt. It flew pretty well, though, and a second later it was rolling off Daichi’s arms behind him. They continued on with Suga periodically calling advice or demonstrating again- “Bend your _knees,_ not your arms!” “Square your shoulders!” 

“You’re ruthless,” Daichi panted, holding onto his knees for a brief reprieve before Suga grabbed the next ball from the nearly empty bin. 

“Straighten your arms,” he replied sweetly as he passed another. The concentrated fervor in Daichi’s frown intensified as he repositioned, and the ball connected with a perfect, echoing thump. It soared high and Suga grinned at the surprised awe on Daichi’s face as he followed through. A pass like that begged to be set for a spike, but Suga resisted and brought his hands together to bump it back. There was no repeat success, but when the ball bounced off to the side, Suga shot Daichi a thumbs up and bellowed, “Nice receive!” 

Daichi shook out his hands, looked at his red forearms, and grinned, “That felt good.” 

“Yeah? It looked good! Just do that every single time,” Suga teased. 

Daichi stuck out his tongue in return, but the determined smile on his lips didn’t fade. “We should do this everyday,” he gushed, running his fingers over his inner forearms. “I don’t think I’ve ever really played a sport. This is fun!” 

“Ever?” Suga wondered. 

“Oh, well. I’ve only got a couple of good friends, and it’s not like sports were a thing when I was human so it doesn't cross my mind,” he replied absently. His head shot up from his examination of his arms when he realized what he’d said. 

It was probably one of the first times Daichi offered up something of his life before, and Suga couldn’t help but ask, “How old are you exactly?” For a moment, the devil was as frozen as a deer in headlights, and Suga averted his gaze with a sheepish, “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me.” 

But then Daichi exhaled movement back into his limbs, this time focusing his eyes on his palms. “I lost track, honestly. Somewhere around five hundred years?” 

“And you’ve never gotten around to playing sports?” Suga clarified. “What the heck. You could be the world’s best volleyball player by now!” 

Daichi startled, then a low laugh escaped him even as he tried to hold it back with a hand over his mouth. “Really? That’s your response?” he chortled. 

Suga lobbed a ball at his feel which he pranced away from with a squeaking laugh. “We were just talking about sports!” he retorted. “Obviously that’s not all my thoughts on the matter! Were you Japanese? That would’ve put you—”

“At the tail end of the Warring States era, yeah,” Daichi finished. 

All of his half-hearted admonitions about getting too close were forgotten; the confession shot a thrill down Suga’s spine. Daichi was opening up to him! This was the most exciting development of the year so far. “Tell me about it,” he offered with enough question in his tone for Daichi to decline if he wanted.

“Well, it sucked major dick,” Daichi replied. He proffered a ball along with a withering expression that made Suga wince. “You want to keep passing?”

“Yeah, go ahead and toss it,” the blond replied. “And sorry, that was a stupid question. Obviously you don’t have to talk about it.” 

Daichi heaved a sigh as he returned Suga’s pass, wobbly but close enough for Suga to get beneath it. “It wasn’t stupid. I’ve just never talked about it with anyone before. My friends and I, we agreed not to bring up past lives. So, I don’t really know where to start. It’s not very exciting anyway.” 

“Then… tell me about your family,” Suga suggested. 

A faraway expression glazed Daichi’s eyes and his next pass went wide. Suga hesitated to retrieve another ball when the other man said, “Well… I had three younger siblings and my mom. I guess my two brother’s wives and kids, too. Dad died when I was a teen. Sister moved to live with her husband’s family.” He blinked, then gestured for a toss. 

Suga obliged and ventured, “What were their names?” 

“Mom’s name was Hisa and Dad was Takeshi. Shinjirō was the second oldest. Then Ryûzō, and Hanae was the baby.” Daichi grimaced at the memory and added, “Hanae got married at fifteen and we never saw her again. I managed to find her after, though, and she seemed to have done well. Managed to find a good man which is pretty much the best she could’ve hoped for. Shinjirō and Ryûzō split the farm between them when I was gone.” 

“Oh, you were a country boy.” Imagining Daichi on a farm brought a smile to his face. Somehow it suited him in spite of, or perhaps because of, his obsession with luxury. 

Daichi scowled, and his next bump spun off at an angle. That was three in a row without a mistake, Suga noted. There was a fine line of distraction, where too much or too little resulted in some kind of twist or bend in his arms. “Farming was about all you could do if you were poor but didn’t fancy starving completely,” he quipped. “Our village was small and pretty far from central but we still managed to get taxed to death.” 

"C'est la vie. Death and taxes and all that jazz.” 

The devil laughed. “Oh, hush,” he chided. “Death isn’t even a certainty.” 

Suga lit up, eyes wide at the reminder. “How did you end up as a devil? Does that mean Judeo-Christianity is the true religion? The Devil and God being real.”

“Nah. They’re all kinda right and kinda wrong. Basically, from what I understand, I just got pulled out of the normal reincarnation cycle when I should’ve died and came to work for the Boss- or The Devil, if you want to think of that way,” Daichi explained. “It’s all just a business. The boss upstairs keeps all the reincarnation stuff running and my boss makes sure bad guys serve their time before putting them back into the cycle at a lower level.”

“So you’re not a retail worker, you’re a loan shark.” 

Daichi curled his lip in distaste. “I’m not nearly as predatory. Now, my buddy Kurō essentially does cold-calling and he can totally shark people into shitty deals. Though 99.99% of people who actually deal with us deserve what’s coming after.” 

The casual statement cultivated a shiver that traveled down Suga’s spine. He clutched the volleyball in his hands like a lifeline. Like so many things, the consequences of his decision often went unremembered. Out of sight, out of mind, but he supposed his willful ignorance didn’t make it any less real. _My feelings for Daichi,_ he thought, _or the fact that I’m a dead man walking._ Daichi opened his mouth at the pause in their passing, then paled as he absorbed the reason for Suga’s sudden time-out. 

“S-Suga,” Daichi stammered, wringing his now-empty hands in his shirt. “I didn’t mean to imply that you deserve punishment. You really, really don’t. I wish I hadn’t—”

“Hey! It’s alright!” he interrupted with a breezy wave of his hand that contradicted the nauseating swirl of his insides. “I get what I get and I won’t throw a fit. I don’t regret it. I don't want you to either.” Suga clicked his tongue and shot him with a finger gun and a wink. “That’s an order.” He prayed his roguish act was enough to convince the other man, because if he had to hold that pose a moment longer he might vomit. Thankfully, Daichi slumped, at least seemingly assured, though his hands still twisted in the hem of his shirt. Suga knelt in the interest of straightening his laces and catching the breath which threatened to leave him. “Hey, you don’t suppose we’re related somehow do you?” he asked. It was something that had crossed his mind earlier, and he didn’t really care to know, but he needed something silly to latch onto before his swimming vision became actual tears. 

The abrupt joke at least net him a surprised laugh, which in turn wrestled away the constriction in his chest. Laces freshly tied, Suga straightened, wiping his sweaty face in his sleeve for good measure. “Fuck, I hope not,” Daichi chuckled. 

“Why so hopeful! Are you too good to be related to me?” Suga demanded, falsely affronted. 

There was a new gleam in Daichi’s eye when he glanced at Suga. “I was just going to say it would’ve made that first kiss pretty incestuous if we were.”

Suga’s face flamed and he whirled to face the wall amidst Daichi’s ensuing laughter. “Ass,” he hissed. “One hundred perfect receives as punishment!” 

Rather than listen, the devil clapped a hand on his back as he walked towards their water. “Come on, that would be like a million generations ago or something. Hardly counts.” 

“Ugh, stop. I can’t,” Suga groaned, though he went to join him on the bench. “You’re making it weird.” Daichi snickered again but made no more jokes at their ancestors’ expenses. The impromptu joking at least quelled the anxious churning inside him for the time being. With it settled, he could return to his status quo. Nothing was wrong as long as he didn’t think about it too hard. “On the plus side, I didn’t hear you ever mention a wife or kids of your own so I can’t be your direct descendent!” he exclaimed. 

“Oh, yes,” Daichi retorted, deadpan. “I’m glad the crushing loneliness of my human life was to your benefit.”

Suga cringed so violently he was shocked he didn’t fall from the bench. “Oooh, my god, Daichi,” he squeaked, but his lamentation turned into an outraged screech when it became clear that Daichi was covering his mouth to conceal a smile. “Oh my _god_ , you’re such a dick! I felt really bad for a second! No sympathy now!” he screamed as he punched Daichi in a flurry of fists. 

“To- to be fair,” a laughing Daichi protested, trying to shield himself from the onslaught, “if I hadn’t had several hundred years to come to terms with it, that would’ve actually hurt my feelings!”

Heaving one last exasperated huff and punch for good measure, Suga collapsed back into his own space. “It _was_ insensitive of me,” he acquiesced. “I’m sorry.” Suga glanced aside to where Daichi was rubbing the watery remnants of a tear from his eye; he hoped it was the result of laughing too hard. “Do you feel like you missed out?” he surmised 

There was a moment it looked like Daichi would snap under the weight of the question. The sardonic smile slid from his lips slowly, accompanied by the darkening of his face as he looked into his hands. Without saying anything it was answer enough, and still he replied, honestly as ever, “Sometimes, yeah.” Suga let his hand drift to Daichi’s shoulder, this time to stay in a comforting gesture. He hadn’t meant it as anything more, but after a moment Daichi reached up to grasp it on his own, an action lasting no more than the duration of a short, thankful squeeze. “I know it sounds stupid,” Daichi conceded. “I really have gotten to do more than I ever could have dreamed, so I’m not sad about it, and I wouldn’t change my decision.”

“But?”

The small turn of Daichi’s shoulders brought them face to face. There was tired resignation in Daichi’s eyes and in the wistful smile on his lips. “But I missed my chance to have a meaningful relationship. A partner. I didn't care for a while, not until I really understood that I can’t. Not like this, where I can’t die and I don’t age. Wouldn’t be fair to anyone else.” 

It struck closer to home than Suga wished, breaking in and robbing him of a moment’s heartbeat. He bit down on his lip to try and distract himself from the sudden emptiness. They resided on opposite ends of the spectrum, but he understood the gravity of those words with perfect clarity. _Dead man walking_. It wouldn’t be fair. Suga had always known the prospect of _them_ was doomed. He hadn’t realized how much hope he was still holding onto until it was stolen by Daichi’s heartbreaking reminder. How selfish could he be, wanting more at the expense of someone else? A disquieted frown arose on Daichi’s face, and Suga flinched when the devil’s calloused hands took hold of his cheeks. “Hey, please don’t cry,” Daichi pleaded, even as his own eyes took on a glossy sheen. 

“You deserve more,” Suga choked. 

Daichi looked surprised, then just as broken as Suga felt. He pulled him into his chest, and Suga hesitated before throwing his arms around his waist in turn. “So do you, Suga” Daichi whispered into his shoulder. 

He didn’t recall when exactly it happened, but Daichi had pulled them to their feet at some point and across space to land in Suga’s bedroom. He was too exhausted to argue when Daichi ushered him into his bathroom. Robotically he washed away the sweat which served as proof that the evening had begun more enjoyably than it was ending. When he shuffled back into his room, Daichi was pacing the floor, chewing on a fingernail. Suga wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him look so anxious. “You’re always doing stuff for me,” Suga acknowledged, drawing the other man from wherever his thoughts had been. “I’m gonna return the favor someday.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Daichi disagreed with a sharp frown. His eyes were ringed red, a little too wide and unfocused. With his fidgeting fingers, the result was a little frenetic in a way that made Suga nervous too. “I’ll figure something out,” the devil promised. “I’ll fix this.” 

“What are you talking about?” Suga whispered. 

Daichi didn’t answer, simply crossed the room and took Suga by the shoulders. It left a spot like fire when he pressed a quick kiss to Suga’s forehead. Before Suga could ask, the devil was gone, and for the first time since their contract was formed, he did not answer when Suga called for him. 

When Daichi came back two days later, he wore an exhausted gloom and a rumpled suit. He offered no explanations and Suga was too afraid to ask. 

## +TWO WEEKS

It was subtle in its change, but the atmosphere around the house was different following Daichi’s two day sabbatical. If Suga didn’t know any better, he would say Daichi was moping, except never in the time he’d been contracted with him had he seen the man even look half as sullen as he did now. 

“Daichi? You alright there, buddy?” 

The man in question started, tearing his eyes from the middle space in the direction of the TV. Suga was pretty sure he hadn’t actually been watching for at least ten minutes. “Sorry,” Daichi laughed, though the sound was without humor. “Did you say something?”

“Nooo. Just… are you okay?” Suga probed. “You’ve been really zoned out since, um, a couple of weeks ago.” 

Daichi was quick to dismiss the question with a wave of his hand and a hasty, “I’m fine! I guess I have a lot on my mind at the moment.” 

Suga’s phone chirped, but he ignored it in favor of inching closer to his friend. The falsely reassuring smile on the devil’s lips flagged and Suga paused before they made contact, even if his heart sank in disappointment at the loss. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered. 

“Nah, it’s nothing you have to worry about,” Daichi replied as he developed a renewed interest in whatever was happening on the television. Swallowing back an exasperated sigh, Suga settled back into the couch, opened his phone, then promptly fumbled it at the new message:

_Sugawara, this is Hyakuzawa Yūdai. I know this is really out of the blue, but Oikawa Tōru gave me your number about a month ago and I figured I’d finally use it. This is probably way too forward, but I’m not really sure how things are supposed to go via text so… Would you want to go out some time?_

Suga stared at his screen until it timed out and went black. Then he unlocked it and reread it again, just to be sure he’d read it correctly. “Tōru, you fucking bitch,” he whispered. 

That did seem to catch Daichi’s attention. “Um, I’m scared to ask, but what did he do?” 

Wordlessly, Suga passed his phone to Daichi and rubbed his palms into his eyes. He expected a laugh or a joke, but when he looked over, Daichi’s gaze was fixed on the glowing screen with the same glazed over expression he’d been wearing so often as of late. “Daichi?” he prodded. 

“Oh.” The man blinked at the screen, then forced on a curious expression even Suga could tell was fake. “That is some Grade-A meddling. What are you going to say to him?”

“I’m gonna turn him down after I rip Tōru a new one,” Suga hissed as he snatched the phone back and jabbed open Tōru’s text thread. He was halfway through a message that was 50% the work ‘fuck’ when Daichi reached over and stilled his hand. His heart jumped at the sudden contact, a surge of hope he shouldn’t have as he jerked his gaze upward. Daichi’s brown eyes glowed in the light of Suga’s phone; he looked almost feverish. 

“Why?” he asked. 

Suga’s lips parted as his breath caught. “Because I—” Without thinking he glanced at the screen when it went black, paused at the tight, anxious line of Daichi’s lips, and rejoined the other man’s unwavering gaze. “I-I, I don’t know him,” he finished, the excuse flimsy on his tongue. “And I can’t,” he added quickly. “Like you said the other day, I don’t want to do that to someone.” 

It was true in part, but the frown on the devil’s face grew darker. He pulled his hand away from Suga’s and murmured, “You have enough time to enjoy yourself. It doesn’t have to be serious. Could just be casual.” 

“Now _you_ sound like Tōru,” Suga complained, trying to inject some levity into the oddly grim mood. “What does that even mean, anyway? A casual relationship?” He snorted at his own joke but Daichi raised an eyebrow. 

“It means you hang out and hook up,” he replied. 

Suga adopted an incredulous smirk. “You’re telling me I should have casual sex with Hyakuzawa.” 

“I mean, way to make it sound clinical, but sure. Why not?” 

He held his disbelief for a moment longer, until it was clear that, when Daichi’s withdrawn gaze didn’t waver from its fixed point across the room, he was serious. Suga’s cheeks burned, a mixture of embarrassment and insecurity. The phone in his hand suddenly felt heavy; he let it fall to his lap. “Nooo. No no no,” he objected. “There’s, there’s no way. I don’t even _know_ him!” 

Finally Daichi rolled his eyes back towards him, a tired but genuine smile painted on. “That’s not really a requirement for casual sex.” 

Shaking his head, Suga hid his face behind his fingers. “That’s _too_ casual,” he protested. 

“Then don’t. You could just go out with him a couple times. You ever been on a date?” Daichi asked. 

At that, the blond frowned and stopped his vehement denials. “No,” he admitted. 

“Might be fun. He seemed like a nice guy.” 

“But—” 

“Suga,” Daichi intoned, taking him by the shoulders. The combination of intensity and exhaustion in his stare made Suga’s stomach churn unpleasantly. “Life- real life- is short. And yours is even shorter. You should enjoy it as much as possible.” 

Suga averted his eyes. He _was_ enjoying it. He enjoyed when he and Daichi spent time together, or rather, how it used to feel when they hung out. Even when he thought he could create enough distance between them to give his feelings time to fade, they ended up together. If he decided to date someone, all of that would change again. “What about you?” he murmured. 

A small crack formed in the seriousness of Daichi’s gaze; he looked uncertain, just for a moment. Then it smoothed over into a lopsided grin. “Why are you asking about me?” he ribbed. “I’m telling you to go for it. Come on, go ahead and answer.” 

Even as he unlocked his phone, the sickening swirl of his insides didn’t cease. “Don’t look over my shoulder,” he muttered, tilting the screen from Daichi’s curious gaze. The devil shrugged and turned back towards the TV. After ensuring he wasn’t being watched, Suga forced his leaden thumbs over the screen. 

_Hey, Hyakuzawa. It’s nice to hear from you. To be honest, I don’t know that I’m in a place to commit to anything long-term. We could go out if you would want to keep it—_

Suga scowled trying to think of a different word before he gave up.

_—casual, but I totally get it if not._

He seemed overly conscious of his blood when he hit send, the way it pounded through his temple and neglected his clammy, trembling hands. He’d replied. He didn’t really expect anything in return after what he said, but he had done his part. Raising his shy eyes, he caught Daichi watching when the other man quickly redirected his gaze. “I just said I can’t commit to a long-term relationship, but that we could go out if he was fine with that,” he explained. “That’s like a guaranteed no.” 

At least for a moment Daichi appeared genuinely amused. “Please. That’s like hitting a jackpot,” he snickered. “Saying you don’t want anything serious but still want to go out usually means you’re DTF.”

Suga knew when he was being teased. “Well maybe I am,” he pouted in return. Daichi turned his face and snorted his disbelief, and Suga didn’t have time to argue further when his phone pinged again. 

_I appreciate you being forthright. If I could be honest too, I just got out of a relationship a few months ago and the Olympics are around the corner, so I don’t even know that I could commit to something serious either. Would you want to go out once the Olympics are over and see how it goes?_

_Though, you don’t have to humor me. I can take a no (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑_

Suga covered his mouth but an abrupt chuckle escaped him. “What?” Daichi asked.

“He, uh, used a kaomoji. I didn’t expect that at all,” Suga snorted. “Everything else was so serious then- bam, goofy little face.” His eyes skimmed the messages again and his humorous initial reaction gave way to hesitation. “I don’t get it though. I would’ve said no way. Now I don’t know what to say.” 

Daichi took the phone from Suga’s willing fingers and read it twice. “Well, he’s at least picking up that you're hesitant and giving you the option to back out. It’s basically up to you at this point if you want to go out or not.” 

Suga squinted at the message again, pursing his lips. “And by go out you mean...” 

Daichi handed the phone back with a shrug. “I dunno. He seems just as awkward as you are so maybe not. You should ask him to clarify.” 

“I’m not going to just straight up ask that!” Suga shrilled. 

“But you are going to go out with him, aren’t you?” Resignation was written in the lines on Daichi’s face, even as his tone challenged. Suga swallowed down a complex swirl of guilt and embarrassment. His eyes settled on the daring little kaomoji. 

“Yeah,” he sighed as he started typing his response. “I guess I am.” 

  
  


_(｡･ω･｡) When are you free?_

  
  


## MONTH 15

Suga enthusiastically accepted Kiyoko’s invitation to watch the Argentina vs. Japan semifinal game with her and Ryū. In a move that was becoming far too normal, Daichi declined despite being invited, citing reasons of, “You should go have fun with your friends.” 

Whatever emotional distance Suga had tried to create always fell through within a couple of days. He simply couldn’t keep it up. That had been pretty obvious when they’d been playing volleyball, since being privy to Daichi’s secrets was more thrilling than it had any right to be. Now, though: this was actual distance, and it wasn’t even coming from him. Ever since he accepted Hyakuzawa’s request, the already strange mood around the house increased. Daichi stayed gone longer, came back more tired, and insisted often that Suga, ‘go have fun.’ He wanted to argue that it was hard to have fun when he was worried in the back of his mind, but the words never came. There was always such a look of tired desperation on Daichi’s face that Suga felt compelled to assure him that he would. He thought about the stupid card given to him just a few months ago and wondered if Daichi really thought this was supposed to be better. 

He had to remind himself to smile as he darkened the Tanaka’s doorstep. By the time Kiyoko flung open the door and offered a cheery welcome, Suga had adopted a bright grin. “It’s good to see you!” she exclaimed, pulling him into the house with a hug. With their rarity and sincerity, Kiyoko’s hugs had a unique ability to melt away troubles. Suga’s grin became real the second her arms closed around him. 

“I missed you,” he gushed. If he clung a bit longer than expected, Tanaka Kiyoko did not object, and a few moments later, Tanaka Ryū dashed into the entryway with a cry of, “Suga-saaaaan!” that preceded a bone-brushing hug around them both. 

“Oh god, Ryū, I can’t breathe,” Suga wheezed. Ryū laughed, but released them. 

“Hurry up and take off your shoes so we can show you the house!” Ryū ordered with an excited dance that befitted a grade schooler and not a successful adult. It made Suga oddly relieved to know Ryū had not outgrown his energy. He hurriedly kicked off his shoes and let Ryū drag him around the little home babbling about what they’d been up to since the last time Suga had seen them. “You need to come over more!” his former underclassman grumbled. “Texting is unacceptable! We only live forty-five minutes by train!” 

Suga started to complain, but it wasn’t a terrible idea. Have more fun, right? “I’ll come over so much you’ll wish you never invited me,” he threatened. 

“No such thing!” Ryū declared. “Kiyoko misses you since Asahi is gone all the time now between work and travelling with Noya. I think she’d like to see you more. Not that I don’t too!” he added hastily. 

“You’re the biggest fucking softie I’ve ever met in my life.”

“J-Just for Kiyoko!” 

Hearing her name, the woman popped her head out from the kitchen and hollered, “Ryū. Can you go get the pizza?” Proving Suga’s freshly made point, Ryū flashed her a wobbly, lovesick smile and leapt to his feet without protest. With a giggle that earned him a short glare from Ryū, Suga wandered into the other room while Ryū left the home to retrieve their lunch. “You wanna grab us some glasses and start moving stuff to the TV room?” Kiyoko asked. 

“Only for you,” Suga sang. Kiyoko rolled her eyes, but he noted the pleased little smile tugging at her lips. “I take it that married life is going well? Ryū still clearly worships the ground you walk on.” 

“Hush,” she retorted as she handed him a stack of plates and bowls. “It’s fine.” 

“‘Fine’ is just Kiyoko-speak for ‘amazing,’” he shouted over his shoulder from the living room. “It’s been, like, four years? You can’t pretend you don’t like him now.” 

Kiyoko followed him in, holding a bowl of salad and still wearing a shy smile. She admitted, “I guess you’re right. It’s been w… wonderful. You know he works hard at everything he does. It’s very inspiring.” 

Suga’s teasing gaze softened even as his heart lurched in a sickening way. What he wouldn’t give… well, it was that kind of thinking that had landed him in the place where he was now. Unable or unwilling to form a lasting commitment. Dead in less than two years. The dark mood he’d managed to abandon at the doorstep wriggled its way back into his chest. His smile slipped, and he wasn’t quick enough to hide it. “Suga, what’s wrong?” Kiyoko questioned. 

“Ah, sorry!” he apologized, throwing up his hands with a guilty grin. “It’s been a weird couple of months. What else do we need to get from—”

“Kōshi.” 

Suga clammed up at the extremely rare first name usage. It was a double-whammy when delivered in Kiyoko’s no-nonsense manager’s tone. “Yes ma'am?” he mumbled weakly. 

Kiyoko directed him to sit and drilled holes into him with her intense gunmetal blue stare. “What’s wrong?” she repeated.

“C’mon, it’s the Olympics, Kiyoko. I don’t wanna—” Suga cut himself off when her frown deepened just the slightest bit more. “Ugh, god damn it,” he groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Kiyoko, I’m never gonna have what you and Ryū have and it _sucks_.”

“Suga,” she soothed. “You’ll find someone for you, someone wonderful who complements you. It’s just a matter of time and there’s no rush.” 

_Time I don’t have_ , he wanted to argue. Besides, if there ever was a complement to his personality, it was Daichi, solid where Suga was flighty and firm where Suga needed direction. Daichi who wasn’t even really human and who would one day very soon take his soul to hell. Not that _that_ was something he could explain to Kiyoko. He settled for resting his head against her shoulder and confessed in a mumble, “I have a date next week, but I don’t know how I feel about it.” 

Kiyoko hummed her acknowledgment and patted his hair. “Then why are you going?” 

“I don’t know. He’s nice and I’m hopeful and desperate.” 

Her soft pat turned into a gentle swat. It didn’t hurt but he whined piteously anyway. “You shouldn’t force these things,” she chided.

“That’s the opposite of what everyone else has said,” he grumbled. “Tōru is always like, ‘Get out there, Suga! Date around, Suga!’”

“You’re going to take dating advice from someone who’s engaged to their childhood friend?” she mocked. A sputtered giggle escaped him. “Seriously, Suga,” Kiyoko continued. “Just because someone tells you to do something doesn’t mean you have to. Don’t forget that.” He sighed but lapsed into silence that Kiyoko respected, and he contented himself with the feel of her hand rubbing circles into his back. He was grateful for the conversation’s definite end when a few minutes later Ryū burst into the house toting a pizza and tea. 

“Oy! What’s going on in here?” he bellowed with an exaggerated scowl. “I’m gone for fifteen minutes!” 

Suga threw his arms around Kiyoko’s waist and squeezed. “We’re running away together and you can’t stop us!” he yelled. Kiyoko snorted and disentangled herself in order to help take the load off her husband’s hands. When they paused for a kiss, Suga piped up, “Ryū, where’s my kiss?”

“Oh, I got it for you right here!” Ryū returned as he flipped him off. 

“That doesn’t even make sense!” 

Kiyoko sighed and cranked up the volume on the pre-game announcements. 

***

_Daichi, I’m gonna take the train up to Tokyo to see Tōru._

_Read: Saturday_

“Jerk left me on read,” Suga muttered, pocketing his phone as he trudged his way up the stairs to Iwaizumi’s apartment. At least he received a response from Tōru telling him to come over, which meant for the time being, he and Iwaizumi weren’t in the midst of a passionate reunion of which he wanted no part. Tōru had the door open before Suga could even knock and squeezed him until tears leaked from his eyes. “I missed you,” Suga whimpered into his shoulder. “Great game.” 

“Ugh,” Oikawa whined in return. The taller man went limp in Suga’s arms and he staggered under the abrupt change in weight. “I have brought dishonor to my country,” he continued. “How can I even go back?” 

From somewhere inside the apartment, Iwaizumi’s exasperated voice called, “A bronze medal isn’t a loss.” 

“You only say that because you got _silver_ ,” Tōru shouted back. 

Suga wheezed and, before he was fully crushed by 180lbs of muscle, shouldered his way out from under Tōru and called, “Thanks for having me over, Iwaizumi.” 

The trainer emerged from the kitchen raising a cup of coffee in greeting. “Yo, Suga. Do you want breakfast?” 

Both men were still in pajamas despite the late morning hour; the hint of a hickey peeking out from under Iwaizumi’s collar was proof as to why. Suga averted his eyes to Tōru’s back as he moped his way back into the apartment and stammered, “Um, yeah sure. If that’s okay.” 

“Breakfast is the least he can do for me,” Tōru declared as he collapsed onto the couch. Suga heard another sigh from the kitchen. “Where’s your stuff, Suga-chan? You aren’t going to stay here?”

“Oh, god no,” Suga replied with a disgruntled wrinkle of his nose. “I’m not trying to be scarred for life. I have a hotel. I just wanted to come see at least for a bit before you go back.” 

A mischievous grin curled up Tōru’s lips and he steepled his fingers under his chin. “Sweet Suga-chan. Don’t be such a prude.” 

“I’m not! You’re just gross.” 

Ignoring the insult, Tōru cheerfully went on, “I heard that you’ve been texting a certain somebody so—” 

Suga flushed up to his ears in embarrassment and freshly remembered anger. He launched himself at Tōru who yelped and kicked ineffectively to extract himself from Suga’s flying limbs. “I never told you off for that! I can’t believe you, Tōru!” he hissed as he slapped at whatever available body part presented itself. “You could’ve just let me choose but nooo!”

“You were never going to text him,” Oikawa protested. His face transformed in triumph when he caught one of Suga’s wrists. “It worked out didn’t it?” he crowed. “Now you’ve got a hot date!”

Glowering, the blond halted his attack and spat, “Well we agreed that it wouldn’t be serious.”

“Whaaaat? Suga!” Tōru groaned. 

“I don’t want a serious relationship!”

With a grunt of annoyance and effort Tōru threw Suga from his lap onto the other side of the couch. “How can you say that? Iwa-chan! Tell Suga he needs to do more than hook up with Hyakuzawa!”

Suga groaned and smacked Tōru’s arm one more time. A sudden blare of deafening music came from the kitchen in response. “Just stay out of my love life,” Suga pleaded.

“You wouldn’t even have a love life if I didn’t give Hyakuzawa your number!” Tōru argued. “You can’t be hung up on Sawamura forever!” 

“I… I’m not _hung up_ on Daichi,” Suga gasped. “We’re—” 

“Just friends, right.” Tōru gave an exaggerated yawn and roll of his eyes. “If you’re just friends then why are you so reluctant to go on this date, hm?” 

Suga pursed his lips and glared. Maybe he was a little hung up trying to sort out his feelings, but he was also worried! Of course, if he told Oikawa that, he would have to explain that he and Daichi hadn’t been spending as much time together, which would only fuel his fire. Carefully, he explained, “I’m just nervous. I don’t really know Hyakuzawa. It’s not like I can decide right now if I want to seriously date someone I don’t even know. Plus, he’s obviously been very busy _and_ just had a breakup a few months ago. I bet you didn’t know _that_ while you were harassing him to text me.”

Tōru narrowed his eyes as he considered the argument. “Fine,” he conceded after a minute of silent eye contact. “I won’t meddle anymore if you accept my parting advice.” Suspicious, Suga nodded and immediately regretted when Tōru chirped, “Take a condom just in— OW!” 

***

## +THREE DAYS

It wasn’t a surprise that Hyakuzawa Yūdai was a really nice guy. It was apparent enough in his demeanor that night at the bar. Also unsurprising was the fact that he was _built_ ; He was a professional athlete with Iwaizumi Hajime as his trainer. When he met Suga outside the bar, it was ridiculously obvious who he was as he rushed up to meet him, even with a mask covering the lower half of his face. The man was six-foot-nine, for god’s sake. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he huffed with a bow. “I underestimated how fast I could walk here.”

“It’s only five minutes. Don’t worry about it!” Suga assured. 

Yūdai straightened, ran a giant hand through his tousled hair and surreptitiously lowered his mask to offer Suga a shy smile. “Um, thanks for going out with me, Sugawara-san. You look good.” 

“Ah, thank you. So do you!” Suga blurted. It was true. His hairstyle looked freshly buzzed on the sides and stylishly arranged up top. Fitted jeans accentuated the muscle of his legs and his shirt sleeves hit his biceps in just the right spot. A jacket was tucked under his arm considering the tendency for the evenings to cool off quickly. Sure, maybe he was a bit more plain in the face than Daichi but— 

Shit. 

What was surprising about this was Suga’s difficulty focusing on either Hyakuzawa’s kind nature or his masculine sex appeal. 

“Honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing right now. I’ve never been on a date before,” Suga admitted. 

Yūdai huffed a soft laugh. “Really? That’s hard to believe.” Oh man, he must be a sucker for these honest types and Tōru was the exception. Yūdai didn’t even sound flirty, just matter-of-fact. “If it helps at all, I’m probably more nervous about this than I was about playing Russia,” Yūdai added.

“That does make me feel better, actually,” Suga grinned. “I kinda like the idea that I’m more intimidating than a bunch of Russian athletes. Great game by the way! Like a proper nerd I watched all of them.” 

Yūdai lit up. “Did you see that crazy stupid save that Hoshiumi did in the USA game where he—“

“—did a barrel roll into the net pole!” Suga shrieked as Hyakuzawa fell into the quietest fit of laughter. “Oh my god, he’s trending now. The sports channel kept replaying it and pausing it when his face was like, ‘Oh shit,’ and I kept losing it!”

“He’s been sulking ever since,” Hyakuzawa laughed. It was probably the most animated Suga had seen him, even counting a night of drinking. “Ah, sorry! Should we go in?” he interjected. “I didn’t mean to keep you outside.” 

“Let’s do it.”

They took two seats at the corner of the bar counter, ordered their drinks, and the flutter in Suga’s stomach began anew. It was like what he imagined a blind date to be, which it mostly was, being orchestrated by Oikawa’s meddling puppeteering. Awkward pauses punctuated by nervous giggles (on his part) and distracted fidgeting (on Hyakuzawa’s part) made up the first thirty minutes of their conversation. If Suga was honest, even faltering conversation was preferred, because looming over his thoughts like a faraway storm was the expectation of _after_. They’d only texted about it in glancing hints, what a ‘casual date’ meant to each of them, and the consensus was: they would go out for drinks, and if they were having fun (that word again) and felt so inclined, they would ‘see where it went.’ Which was a euphemism Suga understood but didn’t want to put serious thought into. It would be fine, probably enjoyable in the way it’s nice sometimes to run through the rain, even if it would be equally nice if the storm passed him entirely. 

Suga paused to take a hefty swallow of his second beer. He was going to have to order something stronger if he didn’t stop overthinking. At least in moments of silence there was their common ground on which to fall back, and which turned into the saving grace of their evening.

“Why’d you end up sticking with volleyball?” Suga asked as he watched the condensation slide down his mug. “You played other sports didn’t you?”

Hyakuzawa looked thoughtful, then a little embarrassed. Kinda cute. “Yeah I did, but volleyball…” He trailed off, searching for words, then gave a helpless shrug and said, “It's just fun, isn’t it? And even when it’s not fun it’s a challenge. Though, I might have quit back in high school if Hinata hadn’t been at that Shiratorizawa training camp. Volleyball was definitely not fun there.” 

“Was that the camp he crashed?” Suga deadpanned. “And caused me a ton of grief by doing?”

“Ah, yeah,” Yūdai snorted. “I hadn’t considered that. That’d be the one, though.”

“Wait, so what happened at the training camp? I only ever heard about Hinata’s ball-boy experience.”

Hyakuzawa squinted, as if considering how to answer. After a beat of silence, he did. “I wasn’t very good back then since I’d just started. Some of the other players had no problem talking about how playing with me sucked,” he said bluntly. “My anxiety was through the roof.” 

As a former captain, the idea of any of his players saying something like that made Suga curl his lip in distaste. “That’s so shitty,” he growled. “I would’ve had so many words if I ever heard my kohai talk to another player that way.” 

The taller man shrugged, but it looked stiff and forced. He replied, “I’d heard lots of things by then, but not from my volleyball teammates, so it did get to me. That’s why Hinata talking to me made such a difference. Really helped take me out of my anxiety at the time.” 

“Shō definitely has that effect on people,” Suga smiled. 

“Yeah. I think I had a crush on him for that,” Hyakuzawa admitted wearing the ghost of a smile. 

Suga choked on his drink and spluttered out a laugh. “I- I’m sorry,” he choked. “That’s just, the mental image—“

“Trust me, I know,” the other man grumbled. “It was short lived. It wouldn't have happened anyway since even now he's got that weird whatever-it-is going on with Kageyama.” 

Still swallowing back his laughter, Suga nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone really gets those two,” he grinned. “Platonic soulmates? Actually together? Who knows! Not like Kageyama has ever shown outward romantic interest in anything that isn’t spherical and licensed by Mikasa.” 

The man’s face twitched in amusement as he recalled, “One time I told Hinata that Atsumu was just as good of a setter as Kageyama and he lectured me for ten minutes about why I was wrong. I was so sure that they were together after that but, yeah, never seen Kageyama show a hint of anything. And I’m definitely not going to ask.” 

Suga tried to offer a sage nod but dissolved into more giggles instead. “That’s totally Hinata. I swear I’m going to ask next time I see him. In my captain's voice so he can’t lie!” 

“He’s surprisingly good at deflecting when he wants to be so bring your A game.” 

“Ah! That just means there’s something to hide,” Suga tittered. He tapped thoughtfully at his chin. “Maybe I’ll ask him to hang out next weekend. Butter him up and he won’t see it coming.” 

Hyakuzawa propped his chin in hand, the small smile on his face warming. “He’d be happy about that. I remember him mentioning a few times in practice that he was supposed to play with you again but couldn’t find the time with all of our training.”

Suga beamed, “The fact that he even still thinks about me makes me so happy.” 

“You’re kidding right?” Hyakuzawa challenged. “Him and Kageyama have both talked about you a lot. I knew who you were before we even met.” 

Suga snorted and nudged Hyakuzawa’s shin with his foot as he grumbled, “Oh, please. You’re exaggerating.”

“Nope. They both talk about you being a great teacher and coach. Hinata says he wouldn’t have made it this far if you hadn’t helped him as a first year.” The easy smile on his face spread, and maybe Hyakuzawa didn’t look so plain when he actually smiled, Suga thought.

His cheeks warmed, and he traced patterns with the condensation into the wood grain. “I… didn’t know they felt that strongly,” he answered, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. 

“You’re practically famous,” Hyakuzawa teased. 

Suga narrowed his eyes playfully and directed a chop with his hand at the other man’s knee. “Says the guy who actually is kinda famous,” he huffed.

Hyakuzawa rolled his eyes and occupied himself with a drink of his beer, but it didn’t disguise his embarrassment. “I’m not famous,” he argued, though his tone was more pouty than annoyed. “I’m just more… recognizable than other people.” 

“You do rather stand out,” Suga agreed. With a groan, the tall man slumped in his seat as if trying to shrink. Suga raised an eyebrow and placed a mollifying hand on his shoulder. “Hyakuzawa, is this a touchy subject?” he questioned. 

He actually looked a little young when he glanced up at Suga, full of doubt and reservation. “Well,” he started. Suga could see the wheels turning as Hyakuzawa decided whether or not to delve into a serious topic. “It’s just, my ex, she didn’t like the attention I would get,” he admitted. “I get stopped in the street sometimes because people recognize me. Being this tall has drawbacks.” 

Seeing him with such a humbled posture, Suga could imagine how awkward it might have been for him growing up, already two meters at sixteen. An extrovert like Hinata would probably thrive under that kind of attention from strangers, but that didn’t seem to be Hyakuzawa at all. And maybe now, he considered, it had less to do with being tall and more that Yūdai wasn’t as unaffected by the untimely end of his last relationship as he portrayed. With a sympathetic hum, Suga bent a little lower to catch the other man’s downcast gaze and said, “I think only a stupid person would breakup with someone over something they have no control over.” 

A reluctant grin broke through Hyakuzawa’s disquieted expression. “I wouldn’t say stupid,” he hedged politely. 

“I know, that’s why I’m saying it.” 

Hyakuzawa palmed his face and laughed, and Suga grinned too at the little victory. He waved over the bartender and ordered them each another drink. “If only you could trade places with Atsumu,” Suga continued, fresh drink in hand. “I bet he’d love the extra attention.” 

Hyakuzawa snickered as he took the drink from the bartender. He looked relaxed again, the oppressive weight of the conversation dismissed at least for the time being. When he turned back he gave Suga an appreciative smile that seemed too sincere to be solely because of the drink. “You’re really funny, Sugawara,” he marveled. “I don’t get how someone like you hasn’t been out with anyone yet, but I feel pretty lucky you’re giving me the time of day.” 

Suga dismissed the statement with a bashful wave. “Please, I’m not all that. Most of my personality is just lame jokes. You just apparently like lame jokes.” He stuck out his tongue for good measure.

Shaking his head, the athlete snorted but didn’t deny the claim. He probed instead, “Are you sure you’re good with just hanging out with me at the bar? We could’ve done something else.”

“Oh, definitely,” Suga assured over the rim of his glass. “If we were doing something more high-maintenance I would probably have panicked myself into canceling. Besides, I think I’m too old at this point for the whole shebang. Theme parks and flowers or whatever normally happens on dates.”

Yūdai’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “Too old? You’re only two years older than I am.” 

“Wow, grave robber.”

Yūdai laughed into his arm as Suga took another swig of his drink. He was fucking _nailing_ this. If he could make someone this serious laugh like that, he could date anyone. When Yūdai, still chuckling, lifted his flushed face, Suga was taken aback. Like that, eyes sparkling with laughter and a smile uninhibited, he _was_ pretty handsome. He blinked at Suga’s quiet stare, the short lived smile faltering. “U-Um…” he mumbled into his glass which he’d raised like it was a shield. 

“S-Sorry!” Suga apologized as his cheeks went pink. “I was just- y-you have a nice face!” He too fumbled for his drink, coughed on his hasty sip, then covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god,” he whispered. He had _just_ congratulated himself for nailing it and then, ‘ _You have a nice face_.’

“Thanks,” Hyakuzawa mumbled, and when Suga peeked from behind his hands, he resisted a sigh of relief. Rather than be put off, the other man had the lower half of his face in his palm, eyes averted to the opposite side of the bar, and the unmistakable squint of a smile in his eyes. His cheeks had darkened, as had his eyes once he redirected his heavy gaze back to Sugawara. Apparently, he thought numbly, Hyakuzawa liked total dorks. How strange it felt to be analyzed as something attractive. He could certainly understand Hyakuzawa’s embarrassment now as he broke eye contact into his glass. The only other time he’d received even close to this type of scrutiny would have been that night on the crossroads. Daichi had the same, hungry look right before he’d taken Suga’s first kiss. An expression he’d never noticed again. 

“Honestly,” Hyakuzawa continued, still leaned into his palm, “I just really surprised you agreed to this. You’re…” If possible he looked more flushed as he spoke, his whole face red by the time he finished, “...way out of my league.” 

Suga ducked behind his silvery bangs. “I’m not even in a league,” he argued quietly. He swallowed down the last of his beer and began tapping against the slick bar top. “You’re the one doing me a favor.” 

The avid gleam in Hyakuzawa’s eye alighted on Suga again, and the man seemed more confident when he leaned in just a bit closer to Suga’s space. In a low voice he murmured, “Then, um, would you want to… go somewhere?”

“Where?” Despite himself, his voice was barely more than a squeak. 

Hyakuzawa, shy but no less certain, settled back against the bar, closer than he’d been before. “My apartment isn’t far,” he said, dropping his eyes to the space between them. “If you want.” 

Suga chewed his lip. Unbearable heat burned along his face, but also within his chest, bittersweet. Was it wrong to want that desirous expression turned towards him a little longer? It wasn’t Daichi, but then, it never would be. Hyakuzawa was a nice man; he would be a great partner for however far Suga wanted to go. If Suga didn’t take what he could, another opportunity may not arise again. That attitude had been what tipped him over the night in April; he supposed he hadn’t outgrown it since he breathed, “Okay. Let’s go.” 

The walk there was hushed but electric, nervous energy flowing between their hands- clasped together at their sides so close no one would have given a second look. There wasn’t enough familiarity for it to be comfortable: when Yūdai fumbled his way through his lock and shut the door behind them, his hands wavered against the small of Suga’s back. “Um, ah. Do you want some water?”

Hearing the anxious lilt in his voice eased the fluttering pace Suga’s heart had assumed when they’d stopped at the door. “Sure. So polite,” he teased, though Hyakuzawa was either too nervous or too serious for jokes now. He gave him a curt nod, cleared his throat and gestured towards the couch in the lamplit living room. Suga took a few steadying breaths once he collapsed onto the couch then swiped his slick hands against his jeans for good measure. There was just enough alcohol in his system to allow him a reprieve from overthinking. Considering the complex swirl of emotion that threatened to overrun him, he wanted to think as little as possible. _Have fun_ , echoed in his mind, Daichi’s voice. Suga threw his head against the back of the couch as if the violent motion would erase the traces of the devil that lingered inside of him in every crevice. 

He opened his eyes lazily when Yūdai padded back into the room and accepted the water with a grateful swallow. Unsure of what to do in the heavy silence that had bloomed the moment they’d entered the apartment, Suga drained his glass and clung to his empty cup. He liked having something to preoccupy his hands, and so did Yūdai it seemed, who placed a tentative palm just above Suga’s knee, his own half-empty glass abandoned. “Can I kiss you?” he asked with eyes and voice lowered. 

He worried his trembling hands might shake the glass right out of his grip, but Suga managed to set it down just as he uttered a quavering, “Yes.” He accepted the slide of Hyakuzawa’s solid hand from his thigh to hip as he leaned in, the slow, easy meeting of their lips. It didn’t steal the breath from his lungs, but it was enough for Suga to be swept along in the steady current of it. They were practically strangers, and so the pace was hesitant, a notion that was almost laughable. Fifteen minutes after meeting Daichi the man had his tongue in his mouth, but Hyakuzawa, serious and shy, wasn’t Daichi. Suga grieved the memory as he pushed it aside with a quiet whimper, a small noise that was easily but not unpleasantly misconstrued. He liked the way Yūdai’s hand tightened around his hip in response, and slipped his own hands around the back of the other man’s neck. It was enough to spur the change in their rhythm. Suga’s stomach lurched when he opened up for the wet heat of the other man’s tongue, and he tugged at Hyakuzawa‘s neck, a silent consent for more which he obliged. They shifted carefully along the confined space, Yūdai conscious of his size and weight as he dragged Suga closer to him. The cautious nature of it all, Suga wanted it gone, if only to quiet the dissenting voice in his head that nagged its disagreement with his body. He reveled in the soft groan he drew when he separated from Hyakuzawa, the fingers unwilling to relinquish their hold on him. Ignoring the manic tremble in his limbs, Suga threw a leg over the other man’s hip and insinuated himself above Hyakuzawa’s lap. “This okay?” he rasped, sliding fingers along thick shoulders. 

Hyakuzawa dragged him by the neck into a kiss more fevered. Heavy hands trailed down Suga’s back and enjoyed the length of his thighs before grasping his hips tight. A brief shuffle of his weight spurred on by Hyakuzawa’s guiding- and Suga squeaked when the adjustment of Hyakuzawa’s hips resulted in the hard length of him against the curve of his ass. “Is this?” Yūdai finally replied with his lips to Suga’s throat. 

A number of doubts sprang up in Suga’s mind regarding his ability to _do anything_ with the monstrous bulge between them. That _was_ the point of a casual sexual encounter, of course, to touch each other. It was something he knew logically, but was it okay, even if a new wave of nervous unease erupted inside him? He supposed the part of him that had agreed to a casual date and its implications was screaming ‘ _yes!’_ so he hummed his agreement with a nod of his head. 

He appreciated that still Hyakuzawa paused, straightened, and murmured, “You’re shaking.” 

“I’m a little nervous,” Suga admitted. “Can you kiss me again?” 

Hyakuzawa obliged, slow again with his hands respectfully around Suga’s waist. With something to distract him, it was easier to brush aside the stuttering anxiety thrumming through his veins as normal. No matter who it was with he would’ve reacted the same to the foreign feeling, he was sure. Even Daichi. He was sure…

Ah, he was thinking of someone else while grinding against the person he was with. No level of inexperience could justify that. Suga threw himself back into his present situation with more enthusiasm. He let his hands explore the planes of the other man’s chest, drift across broad shoulders and ghost over the thick muscle of his arms. The touch only spurred the insistence of his body, and the slight roll of their hips induced less shock and more thrill as they kissed. When he gave an experimental press of his lips to the spot below Hyakuzawa’s ear, the hands that had slowly begun sliding slowly across his back squeezed around his hips and a moan rumbled from the bigger man’s throat. Suga sucked another kiss into his neck at the response, another and another, until he reached Hyakuzawa’s collar and Hyakuzawa’s hands, calloused from years of volleyball, dipped beneath the hem of Suga's shirt. 

The athlete paused to murmur against Suga’s ear, “Can I take this off?” 

“If I can take off yours,” Suga countered, surprising himself. It earned him the slightest smile which only soothed his nerves a moment since the next saw Hyakuzawa begin tugging Suga’s shirt over his head. It required an inordinate amount of willpower not to cover himself in return as the shirt was dropped to the floor. He could feel the splotchy, red flush of his embarrassment blooming across his chest, neck and cheeks, and imagined Tōru’s teasing voice calling him a prude. 

All these overlapping voices: Suga didn’t want to dwell in it longer than he had to. With help he yanked the fitted shirt up and over Hyakuzawa’s body. There was no denying the view was good: the muscle only hinted at with clothes on were something else entirely without them. Suga had a moment to appreciate the swell of perfectly defined abs under his fingertips before Yūdai’s arms encircled him and lowered him onto his back with another kiss, this one insistent. His fingers traced down Suga’s spine, around his hip and up his center, and Suga arched into it, the reaction of his body guiding his actions more than conscious thought. Because even as his fingers explored every delicious cut of muscle from Hyakuzawa‘s arms to abs, Suga’s thoughts drifted toward an imaginary present wherein Daichi was the one beneath his hands. 

The reality of it was forced upon him when he cracked open his eyes as Hyakuzawa’s lips broke away from his. Right, it was Yūdai who hovered above him, whose lips now sucked at Suga’s pulse and kissed down his throat. It was Hyakuzawa’s thumbs digging into his hips and his tongue across Suga’s chest. Suga twined his fingers into long hair and squeezed his eyes shut again when the territory of Hyakuzawa’s kiss expanded to the edge of Suga’s jeans. Then his mouth, hot even through layers of cloth, grazed over the erection confined tight in Suga’s pants. A ragged cry escaped him in time with the involuntary thrust of his hips, clearly anticipated by the way Hyakuzawa pushed him back into the couch. 

It sent Suga’s heart fluttering at an uncomfortable pace, saw his breath draw a bit too rapidly. This was what he’d known or hoped or thought would happen, but the reality was so much different than imagination. To be touched by another person when, in twenty-six years, he’d never been, was overwhelming. It felt so _good_ : his body told him so, wanted more. His thoughts though, already wishing for something else, didn’t want to reconcile fully with his body. He should’ve had another drink, or he shouldn’t have come here in the first place. A word of indecision was already on his lips when he searched for the other man’s gaze and found Hyakuzawa had already paused. 

“Sugawara…” he wavered, hesitation written into the tight line of his brow. “You’re still shaking.” It was easy to forget with his size and manner that Hyakuzawa was young, but he looked the part curled over Sugawara with his bottom lip between his teeth and eyes averted. 

“S-Sorry,” he stammered. “I don’t know… why I keep… It’s not you or anything—“

He cut himself off when Hyakuzawa sat back, giving Suga the space to draw his knees up to his chest. “You know,” he offered as he reclined against the opposite end of the couch, “maybe casual just isn’t for you.” 

Suga tore his gaze away from the curving lines of muscle sprawled before him with a frown. Already the pace of his heart and breath had slowed, which lent credence to the other man’s suggestion. That wasn’t something he wanted to be true: he wanted to be able to finally experience what it would be like to be with another person _before_ _he died_. Now he had a hot guy laid out in front of him and his brain was just going to cockblock him because he was a little too hung up on someone else? 

Cool, cool. 

“I’m such a loser,” Suga moaned into his knees. He turned his doleful eyes on Hyakuzawa when he shifted to sweep up Suga’s shirt from the floor and hand it to him. 

“You’re not,” he said, as matter-of-fact as anything else. “It’s really okay. We were just going to play it by ear anyway, weren’t we?”

Suga slipped into his shirt gratefully, but it only made him feel guilty at how much relief he felt from it. “Aren’t you disappointed?” he muttered with a wince. 

Hyakuzawa raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me if I’m disappointed that an attractive older man bought me drinks and came home and made out with me?” 

Suga covered his face but he couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped him. “I… I guess?” 

Wearing a slight smile Hyakuzawa straightened his hair- mussed from Suga’s fingers- and said, “Sure, more would’ve been great, but I would never want it at a partner’s expense. So, no, I can’t say I’m truly disappointed. It was a good night.” As he finished, a worried frown crossed his face and he added, “Well, I hope it was a good night for you…”

“Of course it was!” Suga assured. Talking volleyball was always an acceptable pursuit, and he couldn’t deny enjoying the turn towards physicality the evening took. “You’ve been so awesome and-“ he gestured to where Hyakuzawa was still sitting shirtless- “ _hot_ . I think I just need... more time," he finished. 

The other man nodded as Suga trailed off, though the ghost of a grin had returned to his lips at the compliment. “It’s not a big deal. It is kind of different. I’ve never tried to do anything like this on a first date, but I don’t know that I would try again. I think it’s just a bit better when you really know a person. Ah, not to say I wouldn’t get to know you more, or that this wasn’t good, because it definitely was.”

Finally, the anxiety hooked into his ribs seemed to relax, and Suga slumped against the couch as he sighed, “It _was_ really, really good. I’m still kinda sorry I couldn't manage a bit more though.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Hyakuzawa replied. He rose with a stretch, grabbed his shirt, then after a second thought, bent over to cup Suga’s cheek. There was still a lingering heaviness to his gaze that made Suga’s stomach flip, and instinctively he reached for Hyakuzawa in return. The taller man pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth, but pulled away before it deepened. For a moment, Suga was left the impression that maybe, if things had just been a little different in the turn of his life, he would have been staying the night here, and he let loose a quiet sigh of regret for the alternate reality. “Hey, you can let me know if you ever want to try again,” Hyakuzawa advised with a lazy grin. “You want me to walk you to the train?”

Suga bit back a wobbly grin that broke free anyway. “Both would be very nice.”

***

Suga locked the door to the house and heaved an exhausted sigh as he sank to the floor. He wished he could have followed through with Hyakuzawa; he was glad he couldn’t. He wished he could have Daichi. 

He’d sold his soul for whatever he wanted, but this he could not ask. He laughed, the sound hollow and mirthless, and dropped his face into his knees. 

“Suga?”

The blond drew his arms around his shins like it would make him invisible. There was little point since, moments later, Daichi knelt in front of him. “What happened?” he questioned. “Are you okay?”

Suga shrugged in his cocoon. Why, after weeks and weeks of spotty appearances and frequent absences, did Daichi have to be here _now_? “I’m fine,” he grunted. 

Still, the other man tipped a finger under Suga’s chin and he caved easily, lifting his face to meet Daichi’s just a few heartbreaking inches away. There was an uncharacteristically stormy anger in his eyes, but it bled into concern. That close together the flicker of his gaze to Suga’s lips, kissed red and swollen, was unmistakable. They dropped lower to where Suga knew- from an embarrassed inspection in the train window- a series of red and purple marks marred his neck. Daichi looked unsure. “He didn’t... hurt you, did he?” 

“No,” Suga promised, “I’m…” His fingers dug their way into the front of Daichi’s shirt but he couldn’t manage to find his words. He tugged, a little feeble, but enough for Daichi to receive the message. With a wordless squeeze his strong arms slipped around Suga’s shoulders. “He was really nice,” Suga murmured. He inhaled the scent he liked so much, spicy and dark, at the crook of Daichi’s neck. It was calming in a way he relished. “Way too nice. I just couldn’t do anything though. It didn’t feel totally right.”

“Oh.” Daichi’s confusion was clear in his voice but his grip on Suga grew tighter. “I’m… sorry.”

Suga pressed his nose into Daichi’s neck, and was surprised at the insistence of his body that followed. It was overwhelming, the urge to react as he had with Hyakuzawa. It lacked the hesitation; it felt right. Maybe, he thought, for one delirious moment, he should confess it all: how much more he wanted of their relationship despite their contrasting positions on either side of the contract between them; that he’d wished for Daichi to be the one below his hands as Hyakuzawa Yūdai kissed him. But he felt the stiffening of Daichi’s muscles beneath his hands and grew fearful in an instant. He didn’t want to lose what little he had of him, so he forced another small laugh and loosened his grip on the devil’s shirt. “This is all your fault anyway,” he teased, even if his heart wasn’t in it. “You’re the one who told me to tell him yes.”

Daichi looked downcast at the space that had developed between them. “I guess I thought you’d have fun,” he admitted.

“I don’t get your obsession with making sure I have fun lately,” Suga tested, but the only response Daichi gave was to purse his lips. Suga sighed, the hint of frustration in it probably clear since the other man seemed to cringe at his response. He forced himself to his feet, fixed Daichi, still seated, with a heavy, wistful gaze, and commented, “If it's that important, then here's my feedback: it was pretty good, but it might've been better if I'd done it my way, with the person I really wanted.” 

It was as much truth as he could muster and Suga turned and stomped into the house before he could see what kind of reaction Daichi would have. He was buzzing with annoyance when he reached his room, a confusing mix as so much of his emotions had been as of late. He wasn't just annoyed: loss and regret worked their way in there, along with a persistent, _aggravating_ arousal. He should've just tried again with Yudai; he'd already felt better once they talked through it. It could have worked. Now he was just unreasonably irritated at Daichi and himself- he should've listened to Kiyoko's wisdom about not forcing himself to do things just because other people told him to. So many things he _should_ _have_ done differently and now he was stuck at home with his stupid regrets and a dick that was completely oblivious to his mood. With a frustrated growl, Suga threw himself onto his bed and unzipped his pants. He rewound every scene of the night, but instead of Hyakuzawa it was Daichi, and Suga’s shirt stayed off and his pants joined, and he shivered as Daichi’s tongue slid down and down and down— 

He thought he should have felt more shame than he did as, frustrated, he touched himself to false memories, but mostly he just felt empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this didn't feel like "omg you HAVE to have feelings for people you're going to be intimate with!" because that's totally not my belief or the point.


	4. Month 16: Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest plot interlude ever that I just didn’t want to skip. I think from here I’ll just start doing little one shots of the cute stories I could spend ages on. 
> 
> I just, ya know, didn’t want to skip the spicy confession

## MONTH 16

Suga opened his mouth, Daichi’s name on his lips, then closed it having said nothing. 

If they had never become friends, he wouldn’t be in this predicament. In the days since he’d come back from his date with Hyakuzawa, it had been empty around the house. Daichi stayed no longer than necessary to fulfill Suga’s requests which Suga didn’t want to make. It felt too much like asking favors from a stranger, except the stranger wore the face of someone he had really, really liked, but who did not, in turn, like him. The stranger also looked exhausted and gloomy and not at all like the stranger used to, which was worrisome even when Suga didn’t want to care. If he asked and Daichi admitted what he feared- that he didn’t want to talk to Suga at all- Suga wasn’t sure he could manage his reactions. It was easier not to ask. 

_This is fine_ , he told himself after enduring a week of their new, awkward arrangement. Emotional distance had been his goal anyway. He would be able finally to get over his ill-advised romantic feelings much faster if he was pissed off, which he was. If Daichi wanted to do this, then Suga could oblige. He had his pride. The second week, he didn’t utter Daichi’s name once. It was the longest he’d gone without seeing him since their contract was formed. This was fine. He was _fine_. 

## \+ ONE WEEK

He was not fine. 

  
  


## MONTH 16.5

“I think if we just keep exchanging shallow pleasantries it won’t be very helpful to you,” Suga’s therapist smiled. “Tell me about why you wanted to schedule an emergency session. You’ve been on maintenance for a while now.”

Suga grimaced and dropped his chin into his palm. Abe-san, despite her sweet, unassuming exterior, was firm when it came to their work. She was sharp, too, and he learned quickly that she would not hesitate to gently call out his less-than-helpful defense mechanisms like she just did. As such, he took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, then said, “I’m freaking out and I think I’m backsliding.”

She adopted a serious expression and nodded. “Well I’m proud that you recognized it and called. First of all, are you still taking your medication, and have you done any thought records lately?”

“Umm, yes to medication, but I forget sometimes. And no to homework. I kinda stopped when we went on bimonthly maintenance,” he admitted. 

“That’s okay! I just didn’t want to potentially make you do more if it wasn’t working, but we may try again,” she soothed. “Now then, how are you feeling? What’s changed since our last visit?” 

“Ugh, everything. There were some things I didn’t tell you because it didn’t seem relevant at the time,” he fumbled through, clenching his hands against his thighs. “I feel totally stuck. I can look around at things like work and daily life and I know I _should_ be happy about how they’re going but then there’s one… thing, that’s just… it’s going so bad and I’m not sure what to do and it’s affecting everything else _._ There’s so much stuff that’s happened in the last few months that it’s just kind of overwhelming.”

She jotted a quick note and asked, “Do you want to tell me about it from the beginning?” 

With a resigned sigh, Suga began, “I’ll try to keep it short. My friend, Daichi, the one I’d told you about? After all this time and telling people we were just friends, I… uh, I realized I like him as more than that.”

“When was that?”

“Probably around February,” he admitted. 

She met his guilty glance with an amused crinkle in her eyes. “It’s entirely your choice what you tell me. I won’t ever hold that against you, Suga. What happened after that?”

Suga cringed but continued. “Well, so Daichi is a great friend. Like, really, the best, but I’m not sure if he would think of me outside of being friends. It doesn’t really matter though because even if he did, he has this… job. Essentially it’s like this contracted thing and in a year and a half or so we won’t see each other again. So it’s kind of pointless to even try to see if we could be anything more, right?” He folded his fingers under his chin and brooded, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself. I really shouldn’t be feeling this way. It’s completely pointless. 

“So my plan was to try and spend less time around him so I would stop liking him, but that didn’t really work because we’re practically roommates and I just don’t want to. But then _he_ starts spending less time around _me_ ! And not only that but he’s telling me I _should_ try to go out and do stuff and be with other people. Which, I mean, if there was ever a sign he didn’t like me the same way, it’s that, right? So that hurts, and Tōru is like, ‘You should try dating someone to get over him,’ and sent me this _other_ guy’s number. His name’s Hyakuzawa.”

Abe-san, taking notes, looked up and fixed his with a mild look of concern. “Take a breather for a moment, Suga. Yep, just like that, a few more times… Could you feel yourself getting more and more tense? Your shoulders were practically by your ears…Okay. _Now_ , what else happened? You got another young man’s number.”

Suga heaved one last measured exhale then continued a little slower, “Well, I ended up going out once with Hyakuzawa because we said we’d keep it ‘casual,’ which I’ve learned is just friends with benefits. It wasn’t bad at all. We talked volleyball and… made out.” He flashed her an apologetic grin and added, “Sorry if that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird to want to explore your sexuality.” 

“Yeah, I just- because, you know, we’re two guys and all…” 

The older woman leaned towards him and gestured towards her desk against the wall. “My ally flag isn’t just for show. I’m quite progressive, for an old Japanese lady,” she said with a hint of teasing in her voice. 

Suga laughed into his hands and looked at her with appreciation. “You’re not old, Abe-san,” he said politely. 

She shook her head with a laugh. “I know what I am. So: you went on your date. Did it work the way you wanted? Helping you ‘get over’ your feelings?”

“...No,” he muttered. “I kept thinking about my stupid feelings the whole time which is why Hyakuzawa and I didn’t get very far. I’m not saying it wasn’t enjoyable, but I probably shouldn’t have gone out with him. I guess I was desperate and stupid.” He dropped his chin back into his palm and sighed, “Daichi was home when I got back- the one night that whole week, of course. I was already feeling like an idiot for not being able to go through with things and then he was all worried and nice and it was _so_ confusing. Si I was kinda short with him and he went right back to whatever it is he says he’s doing when he ignores me. So then I thought, fine, if he wants to do this then he’s going to have to talk to me first. S-So I haven’t talked to him and, and vice versa and now it’s been two weeks, which is the longest we’ve gone without talking since we met and I’m freaking out. It’s awful and I h-hate it—” Suga broke off to bite down on his lip, an attempt to keep from crying that failed. 

Abe-san passed him a box of tissues and murmured, “If you need to take a few minutes to cry, that’s okay.” 

He shook his head violently, but all it did was shake free what he wanted to hold back, so he took a handful of tissues and sobbed instead. It was minutes before he felt even a fragment of control return to him. Still sniffling, he blubbered out, “I’m s-sorry. Wasting time.” 

There was nothing but quiet empathy in her face. “Crying isn’t a waste of time. Besides, I don’t have an appointment in the next block. Take all the time you’d like.” Suga nodded as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. Stopping to process everything brought to light just how exhausted he was. Between tiptoeing around the progressively more strained atmosphere with Daichi, seeing his friends, and trying to forget it all with Hyakuzawa, he’d run himself ragged. 

When his tears finally slowed, he blew his nose, wiped his eyes and choked out, “I’m tired of crying. Analyze me, doc.”

A dry smile pulled at her lips but she let the tease slide. “If you’re ready we’ll start talking,” Abe-san said. “We could talk about a number of things from what you’ve said, so what is the thing that’s bothering you the most? The reason you called.”

“That Daichi and I aren’t talking and I don’t know how to handle it,” Suga whispered. 

The older woman tapped her nose with her pen as she thought. “Okay. Let’s start by tackling some things you’re telling yourself that are contributing to your anxiety, then we’ll tie it into this relationship. I think to start I want to point out how many times you said ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t.’ Have we talked about that before?”

Suga pursed his lips. “It rings a bell.” 

She nodded. “It will have been on your list of cognitive distortions. It’s a common and very sneaky thought pattern. Shoulds become rules you set for yourself or for others that become a source of discord when they aren’t followed. So, since February, you’ve been telling yourself you shouldn’t have feelings, you should force some distance, you should date other people… That’s a lot of rules.” 

He rubbed his fingers into his eyes, then his temples. “And I couldn’t even follow up with any of them. That’s definitely caused me some distress.” 

“That’s because your rules aren’t based on a feasible foundation. The whole point of everything you’ve done is to try and not have feelings.” She offered him a small smile. “The thing is, you aren’t able to just get rid of or turn off feelings. You’re not a robot. It’s kind of like setting yourself up for failure. Also, just because you’ve up these rules, doesn’t necessarily mean you _want_ to follow them.” 

With a grimace, Suga turned to glare at a bookshelf in the corner of the room. “But I don’t _want_ to feel this way!” 

“What do you think will happen because you do?”

“It’ll be a disaster!” he explained. “I mean, look at what happened with Tōru, right? We didn’t talk for almost a year after I told him I was in love with him, and I just got even more depressed than I apparently already was! I don’t want to lose Daichi the same way.” 

Abe-san was quiet for a moment. “Sugawara,” she said, “we’ve talked about this extensively. What happened between you and Tōru wasn’t because you had feelings: it was chiefly because you didn’t communicate them. Isn’t that what’s on the verge of happening with Daichi?”

Suga blinked, then slapped his hands over his cheeks with a soft moan. “Oh my god. I’m so fucking stupid,” he whispered. 

“No, you’re not,” she replied. “When you’re battling depression and anxiety it’s just more difficult to see outside of your box. It sounds like you’ve also been trying to navigate all of these new situations on top of it.” She angled her notepad around so Suga could see and started writing as she spoke, “So to start, you recognized that you had these new feelings, and because of your previous experience, you believed the same thing was going to happen again if you acknowledged them. Right? And you felt how?” 

Hands clasped over his mouth, Suga gave a muffled, “Scared.” 

She drew a little arrow to the next blank space. “All right. So we have the situation, and we branch off here to your feelings about it and your interpretation of it.”

“And the last bit is how I reacted,” he finished. She nodded and wrote, ‘pushed him away; tried to date other people.’ “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this.” 

“You did on some level, though, and that’s why you called when you realized it wasn’t working,” she reminded him. “And that’s something to be very proud of. It’s a different scenario than before though, and I think that could also be throwing you for a loop.” On the page she wrote, ‘Daichi also acts distant,’ and asked, “How does this feel?”

“Awful,” he replied without having to think. “Even though I know I shouldn’t feel bad since I tried to do the same thing. Maybe I made him feel bad too and this is what I deserve.”

She glanced up. “If this is something he’s doing to be vindictive, that’s a giant red flag.”

Suga shook his head right away and clarified, “I don’t actually think he’s doing this specifically to hurt me. I mean, I don’t know why this is happening but I really don’t think it’s coming from a bad place. If he’s still the person I knew, he wouldn’t.”

“Then for now we’ll operate on the belief that he’s not, but if that changes, Sugawara Kōshi, I would like to know,” she said firmly. “That would change a lot of things in how we approach this.” 

“I will tell you,” he promised. 

She accepted his statement then glanced back to her notes. “Where- oh. I was going to ask, why do you think you can't feel bad that someone you care about is acting distant? More impossible rules. That’s a painful thing to experience. What has or hasn’t been done by you in the past doesn’t hold any sway over how you’re allowed to feel. So how do you feel?” 

Suga pressed his lips into a line and squeezed his hands against his knees. That question was like being sucked punched. After a moment of sniffling breaths he croaked, “I feel guilty and powerless and hurt and… I’m so _mad!_ He won’t tell me what’s going on and it’s scary because I can’t do anything if I don’t know why he’s acting like this!” 

She drew a big question mark over Daichi’s name. “Yeah,” she acknowledged softly. “It is scary.” She let that sit for a moment between them as Suga stared at the page. “Feeling powerless is a pretty big motivator for doing lots of things. Sometimes we do things that are a little destructive to try and regain a sense of power,” she said. 

“Like stubbornly stop trying to address the problem,” he muttered. “It’s just… I still feel like I shouldn’t do anything about it. Distance is what I was going for anyway. If I just get through it and let it go, then I probably won’t like him anymore. And it’d probably be easier if we weren’t friends by the time this work contract ends. It won’t hurt then if I just get it out of the way now.” 

“But it’s not what you want.” 

Suga sucked in a breath, then sighed, “No. It’s not, but I don’t really know what to do to change it. Like you said, I can’t control what he does.” 

Abe-san flipped to a clean page, then set her notes aside. “Let’s pause for just a minute. We’ve gone through a lot already so I want you to take a minute to reset.” At her direction he took a deep breath and forced his tense shoulders to relax once more. A few more minutes of meditative relaxation later, she drew him back in. “Okay. Let’s focus first on you. We’ve done this tons of times before: take a step back and pinpoint what you’re worried about happening.”

“Okay, right.” Suga inhaled, scrubbing at his overworked eyes. “I think what I’m most worried about happening is losing our friendship entirely because of my feelings.” 

“Worst case scenario?”

“He finds out I like him and freaks out and we never reconcile.” He shivered. If that happened, he feared spending the rest of eternity in hell regretting it. Maybe that would be part of his punishment. 

What he had given was enough, though. Abe-san prodded, “And the best case scenario?”

Suga couldn’t resist indulging in a true best case scenario: Daichi returned his feelings and they did reconcile and… the tired smile that had tried to fight its way onto his lips faltered. Even the best case scenario ended with him in hell, impossibly close to but eternally far away from Daichi. It ached in his chest and, for a fleeting second of weakness, he regretted his decision to sell his soul. Why had he been so stupid and desperate? Because of one transient heartbreak? If he had never ventured out there, if they’d never met—

And that was just a different kind of bad. Life with Daichi in was richer. It was exciting and fun for the first time since he was young and untarnished by the weight of his own thoughts. It wasn’t even because of the luxury or spontaneous trips or granted wishes. Life with Daichi was good because of movies in bed, their stupid, sarcastic banter. For drinking and gaming together. Breakfast in the mornings, evening runs. Because he was Sawamura Daichi. 

It was with a resigned sigh that Suga finally said, “I… don’t know that I can even say best case scenario outloud,” he admitted. “But I think I can say the most likely outcome would be that… if I was honest with him about how I’m feeling about all of this, Daichi would listen, even now. But I don’t know what would happen after that. I’d like to hope we could at least be friends, but my trust in him is kind of wavering right now.” 

Abe-san nodded in agreement. “You know, it’s clear when you’re talking how much you value this relationship. A healthy relationship has two-way trust and vulnerability, though. If you take action to extend those things to him and he doesn’t make an effort to engage in the same, then you’ve done your part.”

Suga pressed a hand to his stomach in hopes that it would settle its anxious churn. “If that happens…” he fretted. 

“Then you’ll call me and we’ll take it a day at a time. The goal right now is to move you out of the ‘freaking out’ category and into a more stable place by redirecting your unhelpful distorted thoughts so you can more easily act how you really want. The more at odds your beliefs are with your actions, the more distress you will feel. It’s called cognitive dissonance, and usually the more of it you create, the more likely you are to feel anxiety or shame or stress. It’s only going to contribute to this backwards motion you’ve noticed. If you value Daichi and his friendship that strongly, so much that you can’t compromise, then you have to show it in action. And what makes for strong and healthy relationships of any kind is trust. If he does not rise to the occasion, then I think between the two of you, he will have lost more.” 

A genuine grin finally broke through Suga’s plaintive expression. “Careful Abe-san. That sounded like you actually like me.” 

“Well of course I do, Suga, but I don’t think it affects my ability to work with you,” she replied. “I want you to succeed, whatever that might mean to you. Which is figuring out things with Daichi right now?”

“Yeah. I need to think about what to say,” Suga decided. “Because otherwise I feel like I’m just going to unload on him and then we’ll all be mad. I want to explain everything though even if that is probably the scariest thing I will do all year.”

The therapist nodded. “Would you want to talk about that now or is this a good place to end? How are you feeling?”

After a weary stretch, Suga sprawled against the loveseat. “Tired. But better,” he admitted. “It feels good to have some kind of plan.” 

“Then think about it this week and-“ Abe-san paused to roll her chair over to the filing cabinet by her desk- “you have some homework again.”

Suga stuck out his tongue but didn’t complain too much. She handed him a few blank pages which were outlined for him to record his unhelpful thought patterns and correct. “I have new sympathy for my kids,” he smirked. 

The therapist brushed aside the tease with a breezy smile. “You won’t change my mind! It’s for your own good.”

“That’s what I tell them too.”

She laughed, “Lucky for you there are no grades. Would you want to meet next week? Then if anything comes up at least you've got the appointment. There’s also much more we could talk about from some things you mentioned today.”

Stretching out his legs once more, Suga stood with a groan. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’m really hoping I can manage this conversation before then.” 

“Then I hope it goes well,” Abe-san said with a warm smile. 

## \+ TWO DAYS

Suga let his eyes flutter shut and pressed his fist into his sternum as if it would help keep his heart from breaking through his bones. A few, slow breaths he inhaled, exhaled. It was just Daichi. It was just a talk. 

If he came, and listened.

It had been three weeks, and the request almost felt foreign on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes tight and called, “Daichi? Hey, Daichi?”

The prospect of opening his eyes seemed daunting, but the barely-there whisper of feet encouraged him to squint. He twisted his fingers into his bedspread to ground him as he glanced upward. “Dai—“ Suga sucked in a sharp breath as the devil took a stumbling step into the view of his downcast gaze. He looked depleted: business attire wrinkled and loose hung from his frame; his hands wrung at the tie hanging around his neck. Hinting at many nights without sleep were the purple scores beneath his eyes and overgrown stubble on his chin. Worse still was the expression of pitiful contrition twisting his face as he rasped, “Suga?” 

“Christ, Daichi!” Suga gasped as he jumped to his feet. “Why do you look like shit?” 

Daichi blinked some clarity back into the depths of his eyes and glanced down at himself. “Oh,” he murmured. “Sorry. What day is it?” 

Frowning, Suga replied, “The 19th?” 

“Of August?” 

“September.”

“What?” the devil demanded with an incredulous stare. He began to drive his fingers through his hair, eyes wide as he calculated. “But, then. How long has it been since—“

“Three. Weeks,” Suga replied through gritted teeth. “You haven’t been back in three weeks.” 

Daichi’s breath left him in a whoosh and he staggered over to the giant beanbag he liked and collapsed. He stared, disbelieving, into his hands, then looked up at Suga in confusion. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he whispered. 

“Because you—!” Suga stopped himself, clenched his hands at his sides, and forced a breath. After a long exhale, he sat himself at the edge of his bed and tried to recall the points he wanted to make. “Because I’ve had a lot to think about,” he said, staring across his room at the darkening sky through the window. “I’ve been feeling hurt and angry and I didn’t want to talk to you. But we should, if you’re willing.”

He turned to watch Daichi’s reception as his words sank in. For a second it looked like he would argue: they’d spent too much time together for Suga not to recognize it, and it spiked adrenaline straight into Suga’s blood, his carefully prepared explanation forgotten in an instant. The devil glared into his hands which turned into fists, but a breath later the fight left him and he sagged into the cushion. That same remorse he’d appeared with returned when he turned back toward Suga and breathed, “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t even know why I’m mad,” Suga hissed. 

Bitterly, Daichi scoffed, “On the contrary, I know exactly what I’ve done.” 

“Then tell me!” he snapped. “What do you think you’ve got to be sorry about!”

Like the question leveled the last pillar of Daichi’s composure, he buried his face in his hands and a wretched cry erupted from his throat. “It’s the fucking contract!” he howled. “Contracting with you- I never should have done it!”

Suga frowned, opened his mouth, frowned again. “Are you fucking serious?” He could see Daichi’s knuckles going white pulling at his hair; a quiet sob followed. “How many times have I told you I’m okay with the contract? You think I’m mad about that, and not the fact that you’ve been acting weird and distant and _ignoring_ me for weeks?” he clarified in a growl. 

“I didn’t realize I’d been gone this long!” the devil snapped, fixing Suga with a glare of his own. Suga’s stomach gave a confused flip: he wanted to be angry, but it was so hard when great big tear tracks streaked down the other man’s exhausted face. Luckily he was stubborn. 

“So then my feelings about it don’t matter?” he retorted. 

“Of course they do! I didn’t say that.” 

“Well you didn’t acknowledge it either.” 

They stared at each other, quiet save for the shuddering breaths Daichi heaved through his nose. Ugh, Suga hated that his heart still ached to be close to him even as he wanted to scream. He bit his lip and broke contact first with a measured, resigned sigh. “Daichi,” he said when he regained a semblance of composure, “I have to tell you something, and I want you to sit there and listen. No disappearing because you’re busy, no interrupting. Okay?” When he looked again, the other man was once more slumped in on himself, fingers steepled under his chin. He turned his morose face toward him and gave a curt nod. “Good,” Suga said, even as his pulse quickened. 

This was it then? He was really going to—

“I like you a lot,” Suga blurted. 

Oh. 

That wasn’t on his script until much later. 

Suga turned his horrified gaze towards Daichi, who sat on his beanbag looking confused and tired. “What?” he grunted.

Suga slapped a hand over his own mouth and groaned, “Shit, pretend you didn’t hear that yet. I need to be mad at you.” Daichi squinted at him suspiciously and opened his mouth, so Suga stammered over him, “No interrupting!” 

When Daichi acquiesced, Suga dug his fingers into his temples and continued, “Look, ever since we went and played volleyball, you’ve been super weird. You’ve been distant and twitchy and keep pushing me into doing stuff I don’t really care about. And I know I was kind of the same and I’ll explain why, but I have no idea why _you’ve_ been this way so I’d really like to know.” 

“But—” 

Suga silenced him with a glare. “The really crappy thing,” he explained as he rose to his feet in order to pace, “is that every time I tried to ask, you either didn’t answer or just acted weirder. So I stopped asking. You want me to leave you alone and go hang out with other people, I can take a hint.” 

Daichi looked ready to explode with the effort of keeping his silence when Suga paused to send him an irritated look. “I told myself it would be fine, because I probably needed to get some distance from you because I… b-because- well, anyway! It wasn’t fine, is my point! You just kept saying, ‘I’m busy!’ and being gone all the time so then I thought, ‘Fine! I’m going to see how long it takes for him to acknowledge me!’” 

“...And it’s been three weeks,” Daichi murmured. 

“Yep!” Suga screeched. “It’s a good thing I have a great therapist because I’ve been freaking the fuck out!” He released a harsh chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “The other stupid, annoying thing is that I’m really just mad at myself. I could have said my peace a month ago instead of acting like a child, I just…” Acutely, he was aware of the rigidity in his shoulders. Insecurity and hesitation was wrapped around his spine and lodged in his ribs; he sucked in a shallow breath. At his sides, he flexed his fingers in an effort to force relaxation. “I was scared,” he revealed bluntly. “I’ve been contributing to pushing you away and it was the last thing I wanted. I don’t want to lose you, I—” 

“Suga—”

“Daichi, I really like you,” Suga confessed over him. It was hopeless to try and resolve the tension in him now: he could feel his knees threatening to give out and he grabbed blindly at the nearest support- his dresser- to hold himself aloft. He wondered absently if his therapist would be proud of him for laying it all out. It seemed to tumble from his mouth now, a purge he’d been withholding for so many months. “I… I like you way, way more than I should- ah, damn, I’m not supposed to say ‘should,’” he swore, letting his forehead fall with a thud against the wooden furniture. “I just like you,” he blabbered. “And I know it’s a stupid, terrible idea because of literally everything about us, but I guess I don’t really have control over it.”

There was no chance that he was going to try and make eye contact with Daichi now. It felt like every ounce of blood was in his face, completely neglecting his trembling limbs to pound noisily through his ears. Was he yelling? Whispering? He wasn’t even sure. “I’m not telling you this to make things weird. I just need to be honest because I really care about our friendship and I hate not being honest with you so please, please keep being my friend,” he pleaded blindly. “I want you to talk to me! That’s really the only thing I’m asking, which is selfish, I know, but please.” 

He could barely hear it over the thrum of his own heart, but a quiet sniffle bade him to finally turn toward Daichi despite his trepidation. He hadn’t wanted to think about the devil’s possible reactions, but even this was unexpected. Curled up against his knees, shoulders shaking, Daichi whimpered with quiet tears. “I’m sorry,” Suga squeaked, but the other man, face still in his knees, shook his head and held up a hand in a gesture for patience. 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” he emphasized, though his voice was mostly a croak. “I didn’t want t-to hurt you. I _don’t_ want to hurt you. I really-” A strangled cry took the rest of his sentence and he sucked down a few frantic gulps of air. 

Whatever residual anger he’d been clinging to fizzled and Suga stumbled on shaking legs towards Daichi to kneel before him. Suga’s fingertips ghosted along the man’s knee and he whispered, “Hey, try to take a deep breath.” 

Ever obedient, the devil did as he was told around the sobs that continued to wrack his body. Before Suga could retreat, Daichi grabbed his hand, and finally he lifted his face, flushed and teary and utterly spent but still a face that sent Suga’s heart spiraling. “I’m so sorry,” Daichi cried. “I was, I was so _stupid_ , I—”

Suga shushed him and ordered, “Stop trying to talk and just catch your breath for a second.” When the grip on his hand only tightened, he softly added, “I’m not going to leave. I still have questions.” 

Daichi nodded and released his hold on Suga’s hand. Heaving a sigh of his own, Suga settled on the floor with his back against the bed. He was overly conscious of the devil at his side. As enveloped as he was in the plush cushion it would have been comical if not for the sobs shaking his entire frame. Before Suga wouldn’t have held any reservations about comforting him, but then, they’d never been separated by a gap so wide either. A lingering fear also kept Suga in his own space with his hands twined nervously in his lap. Daichi hadn’t really been able to reply yet- though the apology felt a thousand times more acceptable to Suga since he’d be able to explain himself. If what was coming was a rejection, though, he wasn’t going to make himself feel stupider than he already did by trying to hug it out. 

As Daichi’s breathing evened, Suga found himself fidgeting. He chewed at his nails and was dismayed when he gave a startled jump as Daichi shifted. It felt like the most courageous thing he’d done so far when he turned to meet the other man’s red-ringed gaze as he whispered, “Suga?”

His tongue felt clumsy. “That’s me.” 

“Suga, I’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” the devil stressed. He hadn’t even found the strength to sit up; he’d just rolled over onto his side. “I r-really hate that I hurt you. You should be angry at me. For so much! I just, I was trying to, to…” He grimaced and rubbed his fingers into his eyes as he trailed off. 

“What were you trying to do?” Suga pressed. 

To his surprise, Daichi’s eyes welled again, though he cleared his throat and shook his head to stop the tears before they fell once more. “It’s so selfish. I felt… so _guilty_ ,” he confessed. “You keep saying you owe me but you d-don’t. Suga, _I_ ruined your life with this contract! All these things you’re going to miss out on because of me and you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve this.”

Suga pressed his mouth into a line and gripped the fabric of his pants in his fingers. Through the lump forming in his throat he tried to assure him, “I don’t feel that way at all about you! I’m fine with—”

“But I’m not!” Daichi shouted. Never had he seen the devil look so afraid, eyes wide and teary and desperate. “I won’t let you go to hell, over what? Wanting to be happy? The contract doesn’t even mean anything to me, but you do! I’ve gone through every line of it a hundred times trying to find a loophole. I’ve talked to everyone I know and researched every past outcome but I can’t figure it out! There’s no good way to get you out of it.”

Suga couldn’t grasp a thought long enough to speak. He stared at him in stunned silence. “You deserve so much more,” Daichi repeated, his voice raw and thick. “I don’t want to let you go, but I can’t fix it.”

“This is why you’ve been gone?” Suga asked. The tumult of his thoughts was beginning to slow but his head was still light and he grasped his forehead accordingly. “You’ve been trying to nullify the contract?”

“I’m sorry,” Daichi replied. The look of misery on his face was complete when fresh tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Time is weird in hell and I didn’t know it’d been so long.” They met eyes and parted, then Suga flinched when trembling fingers brushed against his hand. “I don’t want you to go to hell. If I let you, after everything you’ve done for me I couldn’t live with myself,” Daichi said as he rubbed his thumb over Suga’s knuckles and drew his clenched hand away from his face. 

The idea drew a scoff from Suga, though he didn’t extricate his fingers from Daichi’s. “I haven’t done anything for you,” he argued. “That’s literally how our arrangement works.”

“That’s how it started but then we became friends. Unless that was a lie?”

“Of course it wasn’t!”

A bit of the tension in Daichi’s brow smoothed at Suga’s indignant response. “You thought about me at Christmas. You let me meet your friends and now they invite me to things! I’ve never talked about my life with anyone like I have with you. I _want_ you to know me; in 500 years I’ve never let anyone get this close to me. It’s—” He paused, taking a shuddery breath, and scrubbed his free hand over his unshaven face. “You’re right. It’s scary. I keep thinking that at some point you’ll realize that the only thing I’ve actually given you is an unfairly short lifespan. Then you’ll resent me, and even though it’s what I deserve, I don’t want that to h-happen…” His voice had begun to waver again but he powered through to say, “So I thought if I just buckled down I could figure a way out for you. What’s a couple of weeks if it meant saving your life? Except I can’t… and I ignored you and hurt your feelings. I’m so, so sorry.”

The devil didn’t lift his eyes despite Suga staring at him in rapt attention. He couldn’t imagine coming to this conclusion on his own: to go through this level of effort for him meant Daichi really cared. A blush rose to his cheeks that belonged solely to the hope welling in his chest. Suga bit his lip, then began cautiously, “Daichi, what I said before… I meant that, even knowing what happens at the end of the contract. I don’t hold it against you at all. You aren’t your job.”

Finally, Daichi peeked up through damp lashes, though he appeared as hesitant as Suga felt. Suga was overly conscious of their still clasped hands and the way their knees bumped as Daichi repositioned a little straighter in his seat. After a beat of silence, the devil mumbled, “How can you mean that?”

“You’re a good person,” Suga replied. “You make it surprisingly easy.”

At long last, there was a reluctant tug at the corner of Daichi’s lips that did wonders to liven up his exhausted face. He glanced down at the space between them where he still held one of Suga’s hands against his leg. “So when you say you really like me…” Daichi ventured as he began to trace the back of Suga’s hand with his thumb. 

The simple action was electric, raising all the hairs on his arms. Suga swallowed hard though his mouth still felt dry when he said, “I mean that despite everything, if I could be with you, I would.” 

The smile on Daichi’s face grew a little wider and Suga held his breath- then it faltered, not quite a frown but no longer a smile. Suga had to say something- anything- before his heart completely plummeted into his gut. He blurted, “Oh, I know that’s probably super against the contract, so don’t worry about it. Haha, I bet if I’d read it it would’ve gotten through my thick skull. Really, I just want us to be able to talk and be friends again! I’m not going to make it weird!” He made an attempt to wrench his sweaty hand back to his side, but Daichi held fast and frowned. 

“Fuck the contract.” 

Suga blinked and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. “Excuse me?” 

There was a fervent glow to the devil’s eyes that sent Suga’s overwhelmed heart skipping. It was a heavy look, half-lidded, hyper focused and settled entirely on Suga. A shiver skittered down Suga’s spine, overheating his body as it traveled, when Daichi inched towards him. His free hand, warm and solid, settled around Suga’s leg, just above the knee. “The contract sucks. Corporate policy sucks,” Daichi whispered. “So fuck it.” 

For a moment, neither breathed as they searched each other’s eyes for confirmation. Then Suga, reckless and impulsive, pressed his lips to Daichi’s in a simple kiss. It was chaste, the slide of his against Daichi’s which were chapped and parted in slight surprise, but Suga’s breath caught in his throat all the same. It was everything Hyakuzawa’s kiss was lacking; to kiss Daichi set every nerve from head to toe aflame. 

And Suga backed away, ending it as soon as it started. He eyed Daichi, challenging him to say something, but the other man only offered dazed, open-mouthed awe. His grip on Suga’s hand went slack, but only because it found purchase instead on the back of Suga’s neck. It was all the warning Suga was given before their mouths met once more in a kiss as tangible and rough as it was dreamlike. 

There was no denying the reality when the evidence was beneath Suga’s hands: the thrum of Daichi’s heart beneath his fingertips, the shift of fabric and he twisted the other man’s shirt in his fists. His own chest felt near to bursting with the overwhelming number of emotions warring for space inside him, and he broke away with a gasp that did little to alleviate the pressure. It found release in the abrupt trickle of tears from his eyes and the disbelieving giggle that erupted from his mouth. A joyful smile unlike one Suga had seen in months spread over Daichi’s tired face. “Don’t leave again,” Suga ordered with a watery laugh. “Please. Promise me we’ll stay together until we can’t.” 

Daichi’s expression twisted in a flicker of pain, then settled with a bittersweet smile. “I promise,” he said, closing the gap to place a kiss at the corner of Suga’s mouth. A kiss on the opposite corner and he dropped his head against the blond’s shoulder and echoed,“I promise.” Before Suga could so much as squeak in surprise, Daichi wove his arms around Suga’s waist and, with a soft tug, off-balanced him onto his chest. The beanbag groaned in protest but Suga laughed softly into the crook of Daichi’s neck. 

_I can’t believe this is real,_ Suga thought as he soaked in the warmth of the other man. “ _Is_ this real?” he clarified aloud, though the slow rumble of Daichi’s heartbeat couldn’t be anything but. Daichi didn’t reply, though he did mumble something incoherent. The pressure against Suga’s back went slack and Daichi snuffled a heavy sigh. 

“Bastard,” he whispered. The curse held no weight. He grinned against the other man’s skin, indulging in the cramped space of the beanbag prison until it became unbearable. He peeled himself from Daichi’s side before they became irrevocably stuck by sweat and tears, then shook the other man’s shoulder once he was free. “Daichi,” he called, and the man jerked awake with a tiny grunt. “Go to sleep on a real bed.”

Daichi squinted swollen eyes. “Yours?”

“Sure, mine.” 

He peered down at his lap, then lifted his shirt collar over his nose and sniffed. “I need a shower.” 

“I wasn’t going to say anything but, yeah.” Suga smiled when exhaustion did not preclude Daichi flashing him an offended frown. “Go shower, if you won’t fall asleep in there.”

The devil let his head loll against the cushion, baring the length of his neck. “Will you come drag me out if I do?” he asked with a weak grin and the trace of the man he was before this. 

“Like I could move your heavy ass,” Suga retorted, earning a huffed laugh from Daichi who extended his hand for help. On his feet, Daichi wobbled precariously, clinging to Suga to steady himself. When he was satisfied in his balance, he cupped both of Suga’s cheeks in his hands and pressed another fierce kiss to his mouth. Months of hope and repression wouldn’t let Suga push him away, not anymore. Maybe they could kiss whenever he wanted; maybe Daichi had wanted to kiss him as much as Suga had. His stomach turned another flip, he kissed Daichi, and they swayed. 

A little too far. They broke apart gasping when they veered a little too left and Suga was forced to replant his feet to keep them upright. He pulled just far enough from Daichi that his hands couldn’t hold him hostage. “Go,” he ordered. “I'll still be here when you’re done and when you wake up. We still have to talk about everything. Don’t forget, you promised to stay.” 

“I know.” He chased Suga the short distance he’d gone. Despite himself, Suga let the devil kiss him once more. “I only just got to kiss you,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Before he could tempt him with anything else, Suga gently unwound Daichi’s hands from his waist. “Then don’t drown in the bath,” he growled as he herded him over to the bathroom. The smile Daichi threw over his shoulder was drunken and earnest beneath his pinkened eyes and Suga believed it wholeheartedly. 

But anxiety returned with the click of the door. Would Daichi still be there in ten minutes time? What was Suga and his kiss really worth compared to whatever policy or consequence Daichi might have to endure because of it? He was tempted to turn back and crack open the bathroom door just to check that he was there and made it halfway across the bedroom before he stopped himself. He forced himself to take a breath and exhaled with the start of the faucet. 

He couldn’t control what Daichi chose to do, but he could choose to believe that Daichi, the man he knew deep down as honest and sincere, wouldn’t have lied. That if he promised to stay, he would. That when he owned responsibility for the hurt his actions caused, he meant it. Suga’s trust might be shaken, but he had done what he could by laying his thoughts bare which brought him a modicum of peace. After all their time together, what he believed the man to be was what he would hold onto until Daichi showed otherwise. So, Suga strode from the room with the intent to make them both a cup of tea, if only to occupy his hands. When the pot had brewed and he held two mugs in hand, Suga returned to his room with steps deliberate and unhurried. What was another day, another hour, another minute? Whether or not Daichi was there wouldn’t be changed if he rushed, and he’d feel stupid if he burned his hands in his haste. He still had his pride. 

Suga toed open the bedroom door. His eyes darted anxiously and immediately to the bathroom door: still shut, light on, water off. He set the tea on his nightstand, grabbed something comfortable from his dresser and exchanged clothes. “Daichi? Did you die?” he asked finally. 

The devil answered with a sheepish, “Almost,” as he pulled open the door. There was more color in his skin, Suga noted, though he looked thinner and less defined than Suga remembered from a few months prior. It also meant he was shirtless save for… “Are those my shorts?” Suga pointed at the tight gym shorts stretched across Daichi’s legs. 

Daichi had the audacity to scoff. “Suga, I almost fell asleep standing and only just avoided cracking my head open on the vanity. You think I have energy to get my own clothes?” 

Suga didn’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth. The shorts were too small, and he wouldn’t complain. He shrugged as if his stomach wasn’t twisted in knots about being in bed with Daichi in _his_ too-small shorts. “There’s tea, if you want it,” he offered instead, turning away from the scene at his bathroom door. 

Daichi padded along behind, then paused at the edge of the bed, twisting the drawstrings of Suga’s shorts in his hands. “Is this really okay?” he questioned.

“Your bed has clean sheets if you’d rather.” It wasn’t as if he couldn’t make it the few extra feet down the hall, but Suga hoped he wouldn’t. It would be easier to know in the morning if Daichi was true to his word if he stayed in Suga’s bed. 

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

Daichi climbed into the bed with a groan. “Tea,” he requested. It was so bizarrely domestic that Suga wondered again if he’d already fallen asleep. He wouldn’t mind sitting in bed drinking tea with Daichi every night for the rest of his short life. 

The second time Daichi‘s head nodded the mug tipped too much for Suga’s comfort. He set it aside before the other man collapsed entirely. How much was he allowed to do before they’d even talked about what they were? Their eyes met after Daichi had snuggled into his pillow and Suga reacted without thinking, letting his fingers trace through his damp hair. Daichi heaved a contented hum; he was asleep in minutes. 

“Not fair,” Suga complained in a whisper, but he continued to stroke Daichi’s hair while wearing a stupid, wobbly smile. With his free hand he checked the time on his phone- barely past 9:45- then swiped it open to Tōru’s text thread. 

_Don’t call me or I’ll block you_

_I told him how I feel and we k i s s e d_

_(｡◝‿◜｡)_

He hurriedly flipped off his ringer as a slew of messages poured in. 

_!_

_!_

_!_

_!_

_!_

_WHAT'S WITH THAT SMUG FACE_

_I told you he liked you!_

_Did you fuck?_

_Ooh_

_Is he in bed with you!? That’s why you can’t talk?_

_Oh my god he is isn’t he?_

_You ratchet bastard, send me a pic_

_I’m not sending you a picture!_

_We didn’t do anything else, asshole_

_He fell asleep. He’s been pulling a ton of all-nighters. Work stuff._

_Boo_

_Yawn_

_So it’s not even an exciting reason he’s in bed with you_

_Well I’m excited!_

_Groooooss you’re too cute, stop_

_Give me his number later so I can give him some kind of ‘if you hurt him’ speech_

_I’d feel so manly_

_Lol fuck no_

Suga bit back his laughter at such predictable Tōru responses. Tōru’s enthusiasm was contagious and it was just what he needed to keep from overthinking. There was so much they still had to talk over, but just for a moment he wanted to feel the full weight of excitement. 

_I’m allowed to be this happy right?_

_I’m soooo happy_

_Gaaaaay_

_Shut up jerk_

_What if tomorrow he wakes up and changes his mind_

_Then you kick him out of your house, fly here, and come get drunk_

_Lots of handsome men in Argentina baby_

_But he won’t change his mind_

_I was right before, when will you learn to trust my wisdom Suga-chan_

_(╯︵╰,)_

_Never_

_Ugh_

_I’m just worried! We had a sorta fight a few weeks ago_

_Maybe he actually hates me and this was just sleep deprivation making him act crazy_

_Whaaaat_

_You didn’t tell me about that!_

_Yah, I didn’t want you to be all:_

_See Suga-chan? You should’ve dated Hyakuzawa. o(´^｀)o_

_I would never!_

_Well I mean, not if you were that upset, jeez_

_So, fight? Then this was the make up?_

_Yah but we didn’t get to talk everything out yet._

_Because you kissed and he fell asleep_

_Yes (!!)_

_Lol_

_You’ll be fine_

_But you have to keep me posted with what happens tomorrow!_

_I want details_

_No detail is too small!_

_Record it if you must_

_Why are you like this_

_I don’t have time to argue_

_Morning practice!_

_Congratulations Sugaaaaa~_

_Detailssss_

Suga’s eyes slid over to Daichi and he repressed a squeal. He wasn’t even tired yet, but he would be damned if he was going to move from the bed. Daichi, dead to the world, didn’t stir as Suga continued brushing through his hair while scrolling his phone. By the time eleven rolled around, his fingers were numb from the angle of his arm but he had stubbornly refused to stop (Daichi gave a tiny huff every time Suga touched his ear, a fact used sparingly as to not wake him). With another grin he finally clicked off his phone and rubbed his eyes. He was tired, and still, his veins buzzed with excitement. He shuffled a little into the covers until he was face to face with the sleeping man. Hah, Daichi was drooling. Gross. So cute. 

He traced the slope of his nose and giggled when he twitched. God, it had been maybe two hours since they’d kissed and he was already acting like a lovesick idiot. The silly smile refused to leave his face. Okay, no big deal. He kissed Daichi, they were sleeping together, and tomorrow they would talk about the future of their relationship. That last point was, if he allowed it, the one that would pique his anxiety. Tōru seemed optimistic on his behalf, and he hadn’t been exactly wrong yet. 

If, for one night, Suga simply enjoyed the heat and weight of another body in his bed, maybe that was okay. A small sigh passed his lips, and he fell asleep with a warm full heart. 

## MORNING

Suga squinted as the morning light filtered through the curtains. Yawning, he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was past 9, meaning he’d actually managed to catch up on some of the sleep he’d lost in the last week. He rolled, and his heart jumped into overdrive. 

Still there and still asleep, Daichi was sprawled across half the bed. At some point, he’d rolled onto his back and had partially shucked the covers. Suga was all too aware of the dryness of his mouth as his eyes followed the natural line of Daichi’s chest into the trail of hair down his toned stomach, where it disappeared beneath the waistband of, ah, Suga’s shorts. The gentle rise and fall of his ribs was the only indication that he was, in fact, alive, since he didn’t stir even as Suga rolled around in their shared space. It seemed too early to have such a heat sparked in his stomach, but Suga found his body rising to the occasion. Biting his lip, he darted from the bed and made a dash for the bathroom. 

“Get it together,” he urged his reflection, which was already flushed five minutes after waking. The day was still young, meaning things could drift far from what he imagined. Daichi could still wake and change his mind about that kiss. Maybe he wouldn’t; Suga really hoped he wouldn’t. At least he’d promised to stay as his friend, and that was infinitely better than nothing. He showered to cool his mind then tiptoed back out into the room for clean clothes with another peek at Daichi- now curled into the pillow to escape the creeping light. 

Suga’s heart swelled. He wanted to live in this moment forever. 

The grumble of his stomach wished otherwise, though, and he snuck over to his desk in the corner to rip a blank page from one of his planning notebooks. He would let Daichi sleep as long as he needed. A plan was half formed in his mind for cooking brunch later, and he wrote as much on the note he left on his empty side of the bed. 

Two hours later Suga was humming at the stove next to a stack of cooling pancakes when the devil shuffled bleary-eyed into the kitchen. The noise of his entry drew Suga’s attention, and for a moment the two stared at each other in hesitant silence. He had scrounged up a shirt and a pair of sweats which fit and shaved his face. Combined with real sleep, Daichi looked more like his old self than he had in months. Suga proffered a plate. “Pancakes?” he asked. 

A relieved smile crossed Daichi’s face and he moved to meet Suga at the stove. He took the plate, but set it on the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around Suga’s waist. He didn’t say anything, but a quiet, minty sigh of contentment passed his lips. Suga could swear his heart was in his throat: was he allowed to be this happy? Mindful of the spatula, Suga settled into the embrace with a quiet, “Good morning?” 

Daichi answered in action: he sandwiched Suga’s face between his hands and kissed him, and oh, what an answer to all of his lingering questions. Suga went weak in the knees. “Good morning,” Daichi finally returned when he drew away, taking up the plate once more. “I’m starving.”

“Oh!” Suga whipped around to the stovetop again. The cake he’d been working on was a lost cause, but he had already created a small stack which he transferred to Daichi’s plate. “I wanted something sweet,” he babbled around the cheerful grin that had bloomed from the surprising kiss. “I know it’s almost lunch time but whatever, right? Do you want some coffee?”

“Please. I could go back to sleep otherwise.” He shoveled an oversized bite into his mouth and groaned. 

“You already slept like, fourteen hours,” Suga pointed out as he poured more batter into the pan then rushed over to the coffee machine. 

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t go back to sleep,” Daichi replied. When Suga set the mug of coffee in front of him, he took his wrist and pulled him willingly to his level for another kiss. It was syrupy, slow and sweet, with the hint of heat as Daichi’s tongue slipped just for a second between Suga’s teeth. There was hunger in his eyes when he let a dazed Suga go free, and he reminded, “Your pancakes.”

Suga muttered a curse when he turned back to the too crispy cake on the pan. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he grumbled over his shoulder as it joined its brethren in the trash. He poured another cup of batter and kept his eyes trained on the pan this time. 

A quiet chuckle was Daichi’s response to the accusation, but he didn’t try to distract Suga any further. “I haven’t slept that good in a while. I think your bed is more comfortable than mine,” he said. 

“You’re welcome to it anytime,” Suga grinned. 

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Suga laughed and continued flipping pancakes. “This is real, right?” he asked. The morning seemed just as dreamy as the end of last night. “You’re not just fucking with me right?”

Daichi emitted an affronted noise, muffled by his mouthful of breakfast. “I wouldn’t do that!” he assured. “I’ve… wanted this for a while.”

Suga had thought himself moderately prepared to face an unpleasant conversation, but he was completely overwhelmed now faced with this level of exhilaration. “The, um, pancakes?” he joked though his voice sounded as trembly as his heartbeat. 

“You.”

Biting his lip, Suga flipped off the stove and turned to regard Daichi. “I don’t think I would have ever noticed if you hadn’t said so,” he admitted, taking up the rest of their breakfast and joining him at the table. 

Daichi carefully speared a few more of the pancakes for himself and directed a guilty wide gaze across the table. “I wanted to hide it,” he said. “But I mean, I also knew it wasn’t really possible, you know? Wishful thinking at best. There wasn’t a point in acting on it, even if I thought maybe you felt the same. Which I wasn’t sure but it sort of seemed like maybe you did…” 

“I was trying to be subtle,” Suga grumbled and Daichi flashed him an incredulous smirk. “I know what you mean though. I tried to keep it under wraps, except I couldn’t imagine that you felt the same.”

Their eyes met, a little nervous. Daichi cleared his throat and set down his fork. “Well, if you feel the same way, it seems silly just to ignore it now, right?” 

“Yes!” Suga agreed with a ferocious nod. If it was selfish then so be it, but he wasn’t going to allow the opportunity to pass. He pulled a shy smile and said, “I just… I can’t believe it. In a good way! But, um…” As much as he wanted to just accept the statement, if he wanted to quell his future anxieties he needed to know. “Will you get in trouble for this? If it’s not allowed by your rules.”

Daichi cradled his coffee and chewed at his lip. “It’s… complicated,” he said slowly. “It’s not like our contracts are so explicit that we can’t indulge if we want, but if it interferes with the bottom line at the end, then it’s a problem and there’s consequences. So it’s pretty frowned upon as bad business practice.” The cheery atmosphere in the room dissipated as he talked, and Suga gave a somber nod. It _was_ sensible from a business perspective. Daichi’s gaze darkened. “I keep asking myself too, why should I even allow myself to do this? To get to be with you when I can’t do anything to save your life? Even if I don’t finish your contract it just rolls over to someone else, so you’re stuck.” His mouth twisted in a frown and he stared into his mug. “I know you say you don’t care, but maybe you’ll change your mind.”

He didn’t want to dismiss Daichi’s thoughts on the matter and considered. “I mean, it’s not like I want to die when I really think about it,” he admitted. “That’s why I don’t think about it, but I guess that doesn’t mean _you_ aren’t thinking about it.” Daichi looked like he swallowed a lemon, so Suga hurriedly added, “Still, it’s not like I blame you for it, and I really don’t believe I ever will, whether or not you’re the one to finish my contract. I made the choice to take it and that’s just how I see it. And I think it’s really important that you believe me when I say that, if we… um.” He gestured vaguely between them in lieu of words. 

“I see,” Daichi replied with a wan smile. He took a contemplative sip of coffee then ventured, “I guess it’s not so hard to believe that the guy who tried to foist his baby teeth on me wouldn’t be bothered by dating the devil in charge of his soul.”

“You make it sound like I’m a psychopath,” Suga protested, though he bit back a grin. “Um, by the way, s-since you brought it up,” he began smoothly after a drink of his own coffee, “is that what we are? Dating?” 

The question brought a glimmer to Daichi’s eyes. He set down his cup and propped his elbows up on the table. “If you—” he paused, then rephrased, softer, “I would like that.” 

Suga slumped against his chair, exhaling tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Oh, thank god, yes,” he breathed. 

“Was that not clear when we kissed?”

“Don’t be rude,” the blond retorted. He pressed a fist to his thundering heart. “I just wanted to be extra clear! It’s not like we’ve done an excellent job at communicating the last few months.” 

It forced a reluctant laugh from Daichi’s lips and he shook his head. With one last swallow of coffee, he pushed to his feet and situated himself against the table next to Suga’s chair. His heavy gaze fell on Suga’s face which he took in hand, his thumb across his chin. “Then, I want to be with you for as long as I’m allowed,” he said. “No matter what happens in the end.” 

The heat he’d staved off earlier sparked back into life in Suga’s chest. He curled his fingers around Daichi’s hand; the others reached around the back of his neck. Daichi bent to accommodate as Suga met him for another kiss. It tasted like coffee and sugar when he licked along the devil’s lip, and he liked how Daichi parted for him easily at the intrusion. For the time being Suga was satisfied with the course of the conversation; now he felt driven to make up for lost time. 

Suga pushed forward, up onto his feet, bracing his hands on either side of Daichi’s hips. He was grateful they were the same height: this position never would’ve worked with Hyakuzawa. He slotted himself between the other man’s legs and Daichi’s arms wrapped around his back accordingly. A short adjustment of his head and Suga slipped his tongue past his teeth, groaning at the contact that followed, wet and hot and fiery straight through his body. 

Daichi’s fingers dug tight into his skin. “Suga,” he gasped into his mouth, “slow down.” 

“Don’t want to,” he returned, drawing himself flush to Daichi’s chest. There was no dissent this time between mind and body, only unadulterated want that pushed him forward. His response saw Daichi moan and move his hands from Suga’s hips to his backside and drag them closer still. 

It pulled broken breath from them both. Where Daichi touched him, fire was imparted under Suga’s skin that only spurred his actions. Without dissonance within him, Suga felt free to continue, to push past the inhibitions that had hindered him before. With his hands hooked into Daichi’s shoulders, he broke away enough to growl, “Let’s get out of the kitchen.” 

Without a word of argument, the bigger man bent his knees and lifted Suga’s weight onto his hips in one easy movement, though Suga clambered to wrap his legs around the devil’s waist with a little yelp. Solid hands gripped at his thighs just beyond the curve of his ass, but the jolt of movement as he walked brought other parts of them together that made Suga whine. When put face to face to the exposed length of Daichi’s neck, he bit a kiss into it that caused the man to stumble. He emitted a low giggle and repeated the action. They’d barely made it into the hallway when Suga found his back thrust against the wall and the hard length of Daichi’s arousal rolled into him. The devil’s voice was scarce more than a rasp as he mouthed against Suga’s throat, “You have to stop if you want to make it to the bedroom.” Contrary to his point, he rutted Suga into the wall with a heady groan. 

“S’fine,” Suga gasped. The feeling in his chest was burning away at his brain. Daichi could have done as he pleased in the hallway and he would have agreed to it. 

Leaving a kiss against Suga’s jaw, Daichi chuckled, “I don’t think you mean that.” Cool air rushed into the space of Suga’s back as the other man took a stumbling step away from the wall. He carried Suga into the closest room- his- and deposited him into the sheets. 

And then he took a step away, a small questioning noise on his lips. 

“I want more,” Suga groaned, propping himself up to his elbows. It was astonishing how little he had to think of such a sentiment before it left his mouth. Daichi made it easy, because everything about him was so mercifully easy. The look in the devil’s eyes, like he couldn’t drink in enough of what he was seeing, was exhilarating. “I’ll tell you when it’s enough,” Suga challenged, and it was immediate that Daichi surged on top of him to resume their kiss where it had paused. It seemed instinctual to make room along the bed, the result of which had Daichi straddling his hips and strong arms caging his head. In his bed, locked beneath him, Suga welcomed the overwhelming fire that was Daichi Sawamura. 

There was no hesitation in the movement between them, only the intensity built from longing. Suga met Daichi with his own burning need, tightening his fingers into the nape of Daichi’s neck as if to say _more, more._ It drew the breath from Suga’s parted lips in ragged pants that only became more punctuated with each probing kiss. He didn’t want that to be where it ended, not this time. The devil in question was no longer merciful, either. The lips once pressed against Suga’s carved a flaming path along his jaw. When they reach the tender skin of his neck, Suga arched with an involuntary moan that only encouraged Daichi further. Suga was intoxicated on the sensation, the electricity it shot straight through his stomach, to where he was already painfully hard against his pants. This was nothing like touching himself, the quiet, almost shameful affair that it was. Shame was nowhere to be found as he writhed and gasped beneath Daichi’s lips. Daichi hummed his satisfaction against Suga’s throat, then swallowed his next moan with another kiss. 

Suga clawed at Daichi’s back, let his fingers slowly scratch lower and lower along the fabric until he reached his waistband. Driven by desire and instinct, he pulled down at Diachi’s hips as he drove his own up to meet him. The noise that bubbled from Daichi’s throat at the contact between them, low and dark with a touch of surprise, begged repetition. He ground against him again and relished the hitch in Daichi’s ragged breath. Abruptly the other man growled, taking Suga’s chin in his hand and his bottom lip momentarily between his teeth as he separated from him. “More?” he rasped. 

Perhaps it was greedy; he didn’t really know how much more he could handle. Still, Suga breathed a pleading, “Yes.” 

Daichi bent to kiss him, slower this time, but full of promise. When he pulled away, his lips drifted to Suga’s ear, sending a shiver coursing through him. “Do you want me to touch you?” he whispered a voice husky and raw. 

Suga processed slowly, but when he realized the question he could feel his face burn anew. His cock gave an answering twitch of its own, but Suga was not so decisive. To say his body begged for that touch was an understatement, but Suga didn’t want to be someone who could only take. The conflict must have been clear on his face, because Daichi’s sensual grip on his chin became a gentle caress of his cheek. “I won’t if you don’t want it,” he assured. “But if you do, I don’t expect anything in return. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.” 

The sentiment was intimate and it made Suga’s heart ache. Chewing his lip, he gave a short nod, then said, “I want it.” 

Daichi grinned, but he reapproached Suga slowly. He left a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, another on his cheek. He kissed down his neck, featherlight, until he reached the collar of his shirt. Suga jumped when calloused fingers teased at the hem of his shirt. They slowly began their ascent, taking the fabric with them until it was rucked up to his chin. The weight of Daichi’s eyes on him was heavy as he paused to take in the sight. Exposed as he was, there was nowhere to hide, so Suga buried his face in his hands. 

Rather than address the shy action, Daichi bowed his head and resumed kissing him where he’d stopped, at the hollow of his throat. Down the pale column of his chest he ventured, and curious Suga peeked from behind his hands to watch. There wasn’t the sense of urgency that there was before, and he felt the tension ease from his muscles watching Daichi work down his stomach. But when he reached the barrier of Suga’s jeans, riding low and fit snug to his body, he paused again. Brown eyes flicked up and met Suga’s, the edges crinkling in the corners to catch him staring. Then he lapped a slow, lazy circle around the apex of Suga’s hipbone and Suga jerked with a sharp cry. 

The mood shifted and Daichi took control of Suga’s hips in his solid grip as he continued. Suga whimpered when he licked a strip across his low abdomen and fixed his mouth on the opposite side. The feel of his tongue across his skin rekindled his blood and Suga found his fingers twitching for purchase in Daichi’s brown hair. The feeling only grew when Daichi worked his way north, this time letting his tongue graze across his nipples. He sucked marks into his collarbone, let his hands learn every curve of his ribs, until Suga was again pleading with the quiet whisper of Daichi’s name.

“You’re so fucking hot, Suga,” Daichi hissed into his neck as he rolled his hips down, insinuating the length of him against Suga’s own hardness. “That’s what you do to me- what you’ve always done.”

Suga shivered bodily, every argument he could’ve levied fleeing at the touch. Even if he’d wanted to argue there was no chance as Daichi took his mouth in another kiss. For a moment the contact between them lessened. He realized it was just Daichi repositioning when his hand brushed along the bulge in his pants to stroke him through the fabric. 

Suga gasped against Daichi’s lips and his nails dug crescents into his shoulders. The other man was slow in his touch, a gentle ghosting of his fingers along the constrained length of him until finally all of Suga was in his hand. It was concentrated fire at the point of contact. It coursed through quivering muscles, forced broken breaths and keening cries from Suga’s throat in return. Daichi broke away, let him breathe, but didn’t stop, pulling instead at the button of Suga’s pants. The zipper followed after and he could’ve sobbed his relief at the release. 

“Does it feel good?” Daichi whispered against his ear, the question light, a little teasing as he grasped him through the thinner cloth of his briefs and worked at him with measured movements. 

It did, it did, and Suga gasped his agreement. It was so different this time, the way his mind and body shared their desires. Being touched by Daichi should have been no different than it had been with Hyakuzawa, but it was. This, he didn’t want to end. It was almost overwhelming. He could lose himself this way, tossed back against the pillows beneath Daichi’s touch, and so he did. Each blazing stroke of Daichi’s hand, every kiss, every moment of exploration had stoked the heat, set Suga’s blood burning just below the surface of his skin.

Daichi must have seen Suga’s struggle to keep himself together; a wicked grin spread across his lips. “Do you want more?” he questioned sweetly against his ear. 

“Y-Yes, ah, yes—” Suga whimpered, but the heat of Daichi’s palm and of his breath on his ear proved to be the limits of what he could handle. Suga arched into him and Daichi held him tight as a blinding orgasm ripped through him to the backdrop of his gasping moans and Daichi’s wordless praise. 

It felt like ages before Suga’s vision stopped swimming. Daichi was curled into his side, the gentle tremble in his arms that echoed through their connection bringing Suga back into the moment. Stunned, he turned his wide hazel eyes on the other man, who grinned like the cat who got the canary. “Daichi,” Suga marveled, “Oh my god, Daichi, I—“ Daichi ghosted his lips across Suga’s and took his thanks in the form of a gentle kiss. “I... I can’t believe I just came in my pants,” Suga whispered, overwhelming embarrassment forcing him to shove his face into his palms. “Oooh my god.”

“It’s okay,” Daichi chuckled as he nuzzled his lips against Suga’s ear. Suga could still feel the slight tremor in Daichi’s hand when he took one of Suga’s and uncovered his beet-red face. When he spared a glance down another moan threatened to leave him at the sight: his shirt still askew, a lingering redness along his hips, pants undone and the warm, wet mess in his underwear. Daichi had completely pulled him apart, and where his hips made the barest of contact to Suga’s was the evidence of his own lingering need. 

“Do you want me to, to help you f-finish?” he stammered. The high of what just occurred bestowed on him a little bravery: biting his lip, Suga reached between them to mimic what Daichi had done and brushed inquisitively against his erection. Daichi’s eyes fluttered shut and he made guttural noise that awoke a different kind of urge. Could someone like Daichi- composed and controlled- come unwound because of him? It was empowering in its own way. A small grin worked its way onto his face as he experimented with a heavier hand. Daichi was so hard and thick beneath the layers of cloth that separated them that Suga felt filthy in a way that he wanted more of. When he tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, though, Daichi grabbed his hand and stopped him. 

“You don’t have to,” Daichi ground out, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining composure. He looked shy, eyes a little wide and cheeks flushed. It was a good look on him, Suga thought absently as he curled his fingers around Daichi’s. “I told you, I don’t expect anything.”

“I want to try,” he answered. 

“Suga—“ 

“Daichi,” he interrupted, dropping his eyes to their joined hands. Despite everything that was happening the words were difficult to utter out of a persistent, if not untimely, sense of modestly. “I, I want you to f-finish too...”

Daichi groaned, took Suga’s face in hand and pressed a deep kiss to his lips. “Do you even know how fucking hot you sound?” he growled. “And you’re not even trying. Suga, I want you so bad—“ Suga kissed him back, drove his tongue into his mouth and reveled in the abrupt silence. “Ah—!” Daichi gasped as he ripped his mouth free and clasped Suga’s jaw to keep him at length. “But I don’t want you to do something if you feel like you have to.” 

“But I _want_ you to feel good,” Suga argued. 

The other man fell quiet. A tender expression softened his eyes. So quietly it was scarce more than a thought, he whispered, “I feel amazing just like this.” Warmth bloomed from Suga’s chest to his toes, the kind that filled his heart to bursting rather than consumed. How could he not feel so happy when the other man dropped such cheesy statements with straight-faced earnesty? He nuzzled his face into Daichi’s neck, wiggled as close as he could until everything below their chests was flush. How close he could get and how close he wanted to be didn’t align. He tried to squeeze himself tighter, twining their legs and hands while planting sloppy, giggling kisses into Daichi’s neck and cheeks. At each slight separation, Suga dragged himself flush again, until Daichi was warned playfully, “You can’t keep moving like that, Suga.” 

Ah, it was incredible how fast the warmth inside him evolved. Suga gave one more experimental wriggle and yelped when Daichi growled and kissed his neck. It was less a kiss and more of a bite, the gentle graze of teeth along his tender neck to the slope of his shoulder, and it brought to Suga a stroke of brilliance. “Can I kiss you while you touch yourself?” he gasped. 

“I said you don’t need to do anything for me,” Daichi repeated, but Suga could feel that Daichi was hard all over again and it solidified his resolve. He pushed away enough to direct a pointed look at the evident bulge in his pants, a gaze which Daichi avoided. With his mouth pressed into a line and a flush spreading on his face, Suga could swear he looked embarrassed. 

Suga swept a long finger along Daichi’s cheek and turned his face back towards him. “Are you shy? I’m not trying to pressure you, but if that’s why you don’t want me to touch you, maybe this can be a compromise.” 

“I’m not _shy_ ,” Daichi protested, though his movements were hesitant and his eyes searching as he fidgeted with his shirt hem. Such a terrible liar. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“After everything you just did to me, you have nothing to be shy about.” 

The flush on Daichi’s cheeks darkened and he bit his lip. “You’re not just offering because you feel obligated?” he mumbled. 

Rather than answer immediately, Suga joined him with a slow kiss to his lips. “Not at all,” he said after they parted. “I want to do so many things to and with and for you because it’s _you_. I want to make you happy and feel good because I like you.” He gave him another soft kiss, then another when Daichi relaxed into the touch. This, he thought, was easy. Kissing Daichi was so _easy_ , and the other man tentatively opened up for him. He liked the way Daichi’s breath caught when their tongues met, and he liked the way Daichi’s fingers dug into his hip when he pushed the pace. Trying not to break the rhythm, Suga pried Daichi’s free hand loose and guided him back to his own waistband. 

A sigh against his lips let him know he’d won. Suga pulled away just enough to watch Daichi- who _did_ look a bit timid- shuffle his pants low enough to ease his erection into his hand. His nervous eyes darted towards Suga’s to gauge his reaction. Eagerly Suga kissed him again in spite of the thrilled grin that pulled at his cheeks. It earned a small chuckle from his partner when his lips met more with Suga’s teeth than lips as a result. 

The slow movement of Daichi’s hand between their stomachs changed Suga’s attention. Before, Daichi had directed the path of their kissing, and Suga began haltingly in the same manner. He licked down the other man’s neck, salty from the sweat he worked up pulling Suga apart at the seams, and nibbled gently along his pulse. Each time Daichi moaned his approval, he lavished the area with increasing fervor. Experimentally, his fingers shifted from where they’d rested against Daichi’s chest to the back of his head. In hair just long enough to grab, they twined and he eased his head back to fully expose the length of his neck.

“Suga— ah, _fuck_ ,” Daichi gasped at the action, the noise rumbling through them both. There was a red spot forming where he’d just been, so Suga drifted closer to his ear and sucked more evidence of his presence into Daichi’s skin. Further south he could feel Daichi’s pace increase, felt the warm trickle of precum against his stomach where the head of the other man’s cock pressed into it. He shivered, his grip tightening for a moment in Daichi’s hair and the man whimpered, but as Suga immediately loosened his grip with an apology ready, Daichi pleaded, “ _More_.” 

“You like it?” Suga asked, surprised at the throaty quality of his voice which pitched the question more sensual than he intended. 

“Yes,” Daichi moaned, meeting Suga’s gaze for the brief moment of their separation. His eyes had become heavy-lidded and hazy, his cheeks flushed and lips parted. It seemed surreal to watch him fall apart in the best way when so often he was the steady one. So Suga obliged and dragged him by the hair into a position to capture his mouth in a kiss, while Daichi worked himself into a pace that grew quicker and more uncontrolled by the second. “Suga, ‘m really close,” he panted. Curiosity saw Suga break apart from Daichi’s mouth to let his gaze rove. He sucked in a sharp gasp when he took in the sight: Daichi curled in towards him; hair a mess from Suga’s treatment of it; lips kiss-swollen, neck red; legs twitching and his glistening cock in hand. 

Suga groaned, wanting desperately to touch him, to have a larger part in their shared goal. He wanted to be the whole reason that Daichi wore that look of reckless abandon. He blurted, unthinking, unfiltered, “I want you to come for me,” but it had the desired effect. Moments later Daichi’s broken cries filled the air, his breath short and ragged as he came hard and hot across his hand and Suga’s stomach. He pressed his forehead to Suga’s shoulder as his orgasm shuddered violently through him. Suga ran gentle fingers through his hair. 

“Suga,” Daichi whispered, turning inward to kiss his neck. “Fuck, Suga. You- that, I—“

Suga hushed his incoherent rambling with a quiet laugh. “Let me do more. Next time,” he teased. Daichi jerked his head up, meeting Suga’s eyes with an intense stare. 

“Because you want to?” he verified. 

“Oh my god, yes,” Suga laughed, and Daichi’s face broke out into a smile so elated it was contagious. He pulled him tight to his chest for a moment before he grimaced and apologized. 

Suga followed his gaze then laughed when it registered. His underwear had since dried, but there was a fresh wet splatter across his stomach and shirt. Daichi looked no less wrecked, though, and held his hand awkwardly to the side to boot. “I think I just wiped this all down your back,” he admitted. 

“The shirt’s a lost cause, then,” Suga declared as he sat up and yanked it overhead. He mopped at his stomach, but paused suspiciously when Daichi’s eyes went wide. 

“Suga,” he mumbled, reaching with his clean hand to run fingers along his collarbone. 

“What?”

“I forgot you… bruise easily,” he said faintly. 

Suga covered his face with a groaned, “It’s that bad?” 

Flustered, Daichi made a few noises as he tried to find words. He settled on changing the subject with, “We should clean up.”

Suga brightened. “Together?”

“N-No!” the devil asserted. “We’ll never get anything done if we go together. I’ll use the guest bathroom.”

A smirk pulled at Suga’s lips at the absolute conviction in Daichi’s statement. It was probably true: now that he could, Suga didn’t want to stop touching him. “And after?” he probed, his eyes going hazy as they dropped down the length of Daichi’s body. 

“Suga, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Slow is for people with more time.” 

Daichi caught Suga’s hand and held it. “The contract isn’t ending tomorrow,” he said. “I want to savor all of this.” 

The reminder forced Suga to take a breath and slow the current of his thoughts. While he did want to make up for time he’d felt they’d lost, he liked the idea of beginning at, well, the beginning. Which didn't make sense considering what they’d just done, but he supposed what it really meant was exploring everything anew with Daichi. He’d said once that he was too old for all the romance that came with dating: maybe it just took the right person. Suga dropped his chin into Daichi’s hand and let his eyes close. “I do too,” he murmured. 

In the time his eyes were shut the devil leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Then I’ll meet you in your room, okay?” he said.

“Okay.” 

In a blink he was gone and Suga collapsed back into Daichi’s bed to squeal. So that had really just happened. The evidence was all over his stomach, and apparently littered into his skin. That went so much better and further than he could have imagined. With one deep inhale of the masculine scent woven in the sheets, Suga forced himself to rise before the other man found him in the same place. 

In his bathroom, though, his giddy grin dropped into a flushed frown. Daichi hadn’t been kidding in his shock. His neck and shoulders were covered in a smattering of marks: some were a faint red, but some an angry purple. Most were interconnected, leading to a splotchy spread of bruising which began on either side of his neck. There were some still further across his ribs and chest but those were lighter and further between. “Daichi, you animal,” he muttered, knowing very well he could hear him.

When he’d finished scrubbing himself clean, donned a clean shirt and shorts, and gathered two glasses of water from the kitchen, he found Daichi looking appropriately contrite back in Suga’s room. “I’m so sorry,” he said, leaping to his feet. 

Suga handed him a glass then used his freed hand to shove lightly against his arm. “It’s not like it hurts or anything,” he answered. “And it didn’t hurt when you were doing it, so I don’t know why it looks so bad. Well, actually my skin hates me so that’s probably why.” 

In a tender gesture that made Suga’s heart skip, Daichi took his hand in his and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll be careful next time,” he swore. 

“Careful is for people with more time,” Suga replied with a smirk, earning a look somewhere between annoyed and turned on. “C’mon. I have nothing to do today and you _better not_ have anything else to do today, so stay with me.” 

Daichi tilted his head and checked his phone. “I guess I can pencil you in.”

“Don’t test me, Sawamura.” 

The devil wrapped him in a placating hug and offered, “Wanna watch a movie?”

Suga narrowed his eyes and he said in a skeptical tone, “Are you offering so you have an excuse to fall asleep? You always fall asleep by the end.” 

“Hmm, I can’t help it if I get comfy with you,” he murmured as he herded Suga towards the bed. Suga laughed, but he wasn’t about to fight getting back into bed with the other man. He clambered in, Daichi right behind, and when the devil was situated Suga snuggled into his broad chest. “So is this comfortable?” he asked. 

The devil left a kiss at Suga’s temple with his quiet agreement. Suga scrolled through and picked something they’d added to their list months ago and never got around to, but it was hard to pay attention when he could place the rhythm of Daichi’s heart. For all the shit he’d given Daichi, it lulled him into such a state of contentment he found his eyes drooping not a quarter through the movie.

“Daichi,” he murmured, burying his head into the crook of the other man’s neck. “This seems too good to be true. Is this really okay?” 

And he was too dazed to catch the tense moment of hesitation before Daichi lied, “Of course it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer, I am an LMSW but I don’t do long term therapy so don’t take this as a stunning example or substitute for real therapy.


	5. Month 18-19: Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to squeeze in 3 months but with all the stuff that’s been going on the last couple months I figured I’d just start posting shorter sections so maybe I can update a little quicker!
> 
> Also we earning the M rating here.

## MONTH 18

In the study, Suga sprawled across his work desk, school paperwork and notes crumpled underneath his arms. “Daichi,” he said, “I’m tired of lesson planning. Distract me.” He had been working on this for the last hour; he deserved a break. 

Without looking up from whatever it was he was reading, Daichi replied automatically, “You have to finish work.” 

It was not the first time in the hour Suga had asked for a distraction. He was not above begging. “Please, Daichi. I’m going cross eyed,” he pleaded, turning around in his chair. 

Their gazes met across the room and Suga knew he’d won when Daichi’s eyes narrowed and a lopsided grin tugged at his lips. Daichi carefully marked his place in his book and in a flick of his wrist it was gone, freeing him to roll out of his chair and stalk towards him. The casual intensity of his gaze, unwavering as he approached, sent Suga’s heart skittering in response. “Have you earned a distraction?” he questioned, leaning against the desk and cradling Suga’s cheek. 

Falling into Daichi’s palm, Suga boasted, “I’m almost planned up through the end of the trimester, so I would say yes.” 

Daichi hummed his agreement and covered the last few inches between them to give him a slow kiss, full of promise. “Alright,” he said as Suga slipped his hands along his waist and under his shirt. “What kind of distraction did you have in mind?” 

Suga’s smile grew a little wider. He dug his fingers into Daichi’s hips and pulled him onto his lap, only to groan as the air left him. “Well, I thought—“ Suga grunted, attempting to keep a seductive facade for another moment before he frowned. “Why are you so heavy?” he huffed. “This should’ve been sexy.”

Grinning at the increasing redness in Suga’s face, Daichi settled into his lap and snaked his arms around his neck. “What are you talking about? This is totally sexy,” he said innocently. “Lots of sexy things start this way. Lap dances?”

“Urgh, Daichi, I don’t think lap dances involve actually _sitting_ on laps,” Suga gasped. With a hefty push he rolled the laughing man onto the floor and rubbed his legs as blood returned to his feet. 

From his new place, the devil wrapped his hand around Suga’s ankle. “Come join me,” he called with his other arm opened wide. 

Without argument, Suga wheeled his chair back, sank to the floor and burrowed into Daichi’s side. He stayed propped on one elbow, eyes tracing the angles of Daichi’s face: a straight nose, a sharp jaw, eyes brown and soft with question. “Suga?” he prodded, lips quirked a little to the right in a shy smile. 

“I've been thinking of a bucket list,” Suga declared. It wasn’t exactly what the original mood called for: he wanted to commit these little moments to memory, which had reminded him of his passing idea to ensure that he did. 

Daichi’s eyes widened in brief surprise. He rolled to one side too so they were face to face. “A bucket list,” he echoed. “Okay. What kind of stuff do you want to do?”

“Well,” he drawled, letting his gaze wander in thought, “traveling more is obvious. Pretty much any time you scroll through anything, there’s pictures of places and you think, ‘I’d love to see that in person.’ So I’m going to start keeping track of those so we can go to all of them. I want to see all the places you love, too. And I want to see my friends more! We’ll visit Tōru in Argentina until he’s sick of us. Maybe it’d be nice to see him and Iwaizumi have a wedding. It’s legal there, did you know?”

“I did,” Daichi smiled, a little teasing. “I’m happy to go with you wherever, but it seems awfully pushy to force your friends to get married for your sake.”

Suga knocked him onto his back. “I’m not being pushy! They’ve already been engaged for a year and a half!” he squawked. 

Daichi snorted but let it slide. “Okay, dork. Put planning a wedding on your list. What else?” 

Suga narrowed his eyes and considered prolonging the faux argument, but decided against. His thoughts skipped onto the next topic anyway, and happily he sighed, “Food, also obvious. But all the best food. I’m talking about restaurants with year long reservation lists that we walk right into, Anthony Bourdain star of approval, makes you cry kind of food! We’re going to try _everything.”_

“So we _will_ need the wheelbarrow.” 

“Wha- oh! Hah!” Suga barked out a laugh, covering his mouth too late to reign it in. “Yes! Are you finally getting on board?”

Pressing a finger to Suga’s forehead, Daichi gave it a little push, then capitalized on his imbalance to squeeze him closer. “Nah, I like the way you look at me when I don’t have a shirt on,” the devil teased, nosing at Suga’s neck. “Like hell I’m going to ruin that.” 

A shiver worked its way down Suga’s spine where Daichi’s hand found the cool skin on his lower back. He tilted his head back, and the other man replaced his gentle snuggling with a kiss. “Actually, that does bring me to the next item,” Suga breathed, fingers stroking at the place on Daichi’s neck where soft brown hair met tanned skin. 

“And what’s that?”

Suga gave a little tug on Daichi’s hair so that their eyes could meet. “Have sex with you for the first time,” he grinned. “And then a lot more after that. As much as possible. Not that I haven’t enjoyed the things you can do with your mouth and hands, but I think we could do more.”

The reply came before Daichi even spoke: his grip on Suga’s back slipped lower, gaze went heavy and that slightly crooked tilt returned to his smile. “That’s my favorite item so far,” he admitted. 

Suga trembled as the electric thrill of Daichi’s reply coursed straight through his body. “Maybe we can check that off the list right now?” he proposed, hand coming around to cup Daichi’s cheek as he leaned in, lips close but not touching. 

“Yeah? You want to?” Daichi purred, chasing the teasing bait of Suga’s lips as the blond moved further out of reach. Not until he pulled back with a put upon expression did Suga close the gap with an open-mouthed kiss. Weeks of exploration and experimentation had seen them come a long way: testing each of their boundaries a little further each time they touched had been the highlight of most nights, but while practice had been fun, Suga really, _really_ wanted to start on this list. That thought alone was enough to see him end their kiss prematurely, before it was given the chance to spin out of control on the study floor. 

Daichi, though, had other plans, and chased another, and another, until, with a groan, Suga strained against Daichi's chest when the other man playfully refused to release him. “I don’t want to do it on the floor,” he grumbled. It wasn’t exactly true: Daichi probably could have convinced him the longer this went on; he needed to circumvent it now lest he wind up with carpet burn on his ass. “Let’s go to—” and he hadn’t finished the sentence before they tumbled through space onto his bed. Daichi laughed at his surprised yelp.

“What?” the devil replied cheekily. “You said you didn’t want to be on the floor.” He rolled on top of the disgruntled blond, arms on either side of his face, before he could complain too heartily. “And you seemed so _eager,”_ he added, “always going on about wasting time—“

“Enough, Daichi,” Suga complained as he wound his hands through the other man’s dark hair and pulled him down to silence him. Despite the teasing, it was clear that Daichi was just as eager, even if he didn’t act with the same ferocity with which Suga did. Two months was enough time for Suga to pick up on the other man’s tells: the excited tremble in his fingers at the first touch, how his breath hitched when Suga took their kiss further, tongue probing between his lips. Suga was the one who tended towards a burst of frenetic energy. Each breath saw his intensity increase that much more, and it wasn’t long before his searching hands were ripping Daichi’s shirt overhead. 

The devil was right: Suga loved the muscular angles of Daichi’s chest, the shape of his shoulders, the artistic definition in his forearms, and certainly the thick cut of his thighs, still beneath his pants. That was next, as soon as possible, Suga decided, reaching for his partner’s waistband. 

So closely twined he could feel the uncertainty in the way Daichi tensed. It was hard to resist rushing forward: enthusiastic action was Suga’s MO, but it wasn’t always what Daichi needed. Hundreds of years in service to others with himself as an afterthought was a difficult mindset to overcome. Instead of continuing, Suga pressed a kiss into the revealed skin of Daichi’s chest, letting his fingers drift to a comfortable spot along his waist. “I’m excited I get to do this with you,” Suga murmured into his neck before sucking a kiss into the spot. 

Against Suga’s lips there was a happy rumble from Daichi’s throat. “Are you?” Daichi probed as Suga bit more kisses along his collarbone. His tone was light, but the right posture of his body was questioning. 

“You have no idea,” Suga grinned, collapsing once more onto his back. He peered up through messy starlight bangs, an encouraging smile on his lips. “I want to touch you; can I?”

Daichi gave him a short nod, a little more relaxed, then captured his lips, a short peck that gradually became something longer, heated. They separated long enough for Suga’s shirt to join Daichi’s on the floor and rejoined in a rush. It was hard to imagine Daichi as anything less than confident as his self-sure hands glided along Suga’s skin, and that was as good a sign as any. With the same care as Daichi afforded him the first time they’d been together, Suga’s fingers returned to the man’s waistband, then slipped inside. 

The devil was wonderfully reactive in his own way. Suga swallowed down the moan that left Daichi’s slack mouth once he had the length of him palmed through his briefs. Daichi surrendered to his touch, burying his face against Suga’s shoulder as he sighed, “Feels good.”

That was a small victory. “I want you to feel good,” a pleased Suga replied before he tentatively went a step further. The grip Daichi had on the sheets on either side of Suga’s face tightened as the blond reached past the remaining cloth barrier to encircle the length of his cock. With a quiet hum of affirmation, Suga moved with lazy strokes, but it wasn’t long before the motion began to mirror the way Daichi’s lips against his neck, feverish and insistent. 

_“Suga.”_ Daichi's warning was still muffled by the smaller man’s shoulder but the scrape of teeth was indicative of the smile he wore. “You have to stop.”

Suga shivered with delight but offered a coy, “You first,” followed by a giggle at the playful growl and flurry of movement it sparked. Daichi took his hand, kissed the back of it, then pressed it into the mattress. It was only for a moment that he had Suga trapped in place, but the authoritative fire in Daichi’s eyes burned away the dredges of nervous energy that lingered in Suga’s chest. Smirk fading, he bit his lip as Daichi’s palms trailed the pale expanse of his chest and unbuttoned his pants in a single deft pinch. 

It could not be said that Daichi possessed a shred of doubt in regards to pleasing Suga. 

Eagerly, he raised his hips so Daichi could pull off his pants, though the other man did not use the opportunity to take his boxers too. Instead, he coaxed Suga’s knees apart with a kiss to his inner thigh, one side then the other, just below the edge of the fabric. The rough drag of Daichi’s palms on the sensitive skin left goosebumps in their wake, persisting as his tongue blazed a trail down to his knee. His molten gaze flicked upward, met Suga’s, and he smirked just before grazing at his thigh. “Should I take these off?” he murmured.

“Yes,” he groaned, “please.” The teasing along his sensitive inner legs was burning at him from the inside: if Daichi continued like this he would lose what little was left of his mind. Blessedly, the devil obliged, easing Suga’s briefs off of his hips, and the heat coiled in his abdomen only raged hotter at the hazy desire in Daichi’s eyes as he watched Suga’s cock bounce free. The garment wasn’t even halfway down his calves before Daichi descended, lips encircling him with a greedy fervor. A wordless cry burst from Suga’s throat; his fingers found Daichi’s hair like instinct. What was left of the air in his lungs left him as he moaned his partner’s name. 

Mouth too preoccupied to banter, Daichi curled his hands around Suga’s hips in response. Pinned, Suga was a willing prisoner, twitching in his cage only for the pleasure of being coaxed back into the mattress by Daichi’s firm grip. It was art, the way Daichi’s mouth worked: Suga wanted to be able to bring him the same, to give Daichi what he _so_ deserved. Though, his generous thoughts were going up in smoke with every moment that passed with the devil’s mouth around the length of him, and still- selfish, maybe- it wasn’t enough for him. Without thought, the words formed in his mouth, falling, a hushed, _“More.”_ Wearing a small smile, Daichi pushed himself to his knees, dragging a bottle from wherever it was he materialized his belongings. “Show off,” Suga added. 

“Impressed?” the devil asked, but the teasing in his tone was breathy, too fervid to be as playful as he probably hoped. It showed; he didn’t wait for an answer. The smoke of Suga’s thoughts was scattered as Daichi, eyes focused intently on Suga’s face, eased a finger against him, then inside him. It was still new enough that without fail Daichi paused and asked, “Is this okay?”

Honesty was important- the most important. For both their sakes, Suga considered carefully, even if it was just for a moment, and his eventual nod became the stimulus for Daichi’s slow continuation. For how shy he was about receiving pleasure, Daichi thrived on giving, and this was no exception. He was attentive and a touch sly as his finger slid further in, coming to press along the sensitive place that had Suga gasping a breath that never fully returned. Daichi’s lips took on a crooked tilt, repeating with the same slow care until Suga’s breath was ragged. “You look good like this,” Daichi breathed. 

The heated praise warmed everything from Suga’s cheeks to his chest. He opened his mouth to retort, which was the precise moment Daichi curled his finger, a little pressure, and Suga’s words came out an incoherent jumble of noise. There was no chance it wasn’t purposeful, but there was nothing Suga could do amidst the white crowding the edges of his vision. In the precious seconds it took to blink the other man’s smirking face back into view, Daichi was testing his boundaries with a second finger. All Suga could manage was the broken exhale of his name and a preemptive, “S’good- _fuck,_ keep going,” so that he wouldn’t stop. 

Biting his lip, Daichi obliged. He kept his burning gaze fixed to Suga’s until hazel eyes fluttered shut and Suga’s head fell back to the pillow. It was easier each time to adjust, but as he had before, Suga found himself craving more than just Daichi’s fingers. His stomach flipped quick and excited, like the kind of turn before the drop on a roller coaster, because this time, _this_ time there _would_ be more. His blood like cinder thrummed throughout him while Daichi methodically, relentlessly opened him, the simmering burn turning the remnants of his restraint into ash. Under Daichi’s hands he arched and panted and begged. Because this time there would be more, and there was nothing left to keep them from it. 

“Suga—?”

“Yes,” he gasped, the answer to the unspoken question. Daichi’s eyes were bright, roving down Suga’s flushed skin as he withdrew. Together, they made quick work of his remaining clothes, and without preamble, Suga wrapped his hand around Daicih’s half-hard cock- the only warning given before he crawled into place and his mouth joined his hand. 

A hissed groan left Daichi’s lips, his fingers sinking into the ash blond silk of Suga’s hair, and for once a protest didn’t follow. He hadn’t planned for more than a short show of appreciation as he licked a thick stripe up the hardening length. But then Daichi adjusted onto his knees with a sigh, a position more comfortable for them both, and Suga found himself reluctant to stop. With a low moan at the back of his throat, Suga sucked down his thick cock as far as he could and let his spit-slicked hand cover the rest. 

Daichi’s response was quiet, but no less genuine, choked back whimpers and quickening breaths. Suga savored the small notes of praise, the gradual tightening of hands in his hair and on his shoulder as he took in the heady taste of his partner on his tongue. While Suga enjoyed coaxing Daichi into taking more for himself without accepting anything in return, the promise of more still lingered between them. Through pewter lashes he peered as Daichi, lids heavy and lip between his teeth, pushed him by the shoulder off of his cock. “You want to keep going?” he questioned, softly despite the hunger in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Suga reaffirmed with a decisive nod. Daichi cupped Suga’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips, leaned into it until Suga was against the sheets and nothing was between them. He murmured the other man’s name, ghosting his fingers along his cheeks. Balanced on his tongue were the words he wanted to say, syllables the same but what came out was, “I want you.”

Daichi left a kiss on his fingertips as he knelt reverently between Suga’s legs. There was a warmth in his eyes like he knew what Suga meant, or maybe that was the haze of sex clouding Suga’s perception. It didn’t matter though, not when Daichi had his hips in a bruising grip and the slick head of his cock against his entrance. With a joint gasp between them, Daichi pushed past natural resistance. 

It seemed tighter than Suga imagined, more so than the things they’d done before, and instinct made his muscles go taut, eyes squeezed shut. A sudden anxiousness tightened his chest: he recalled a previous encounter, briefly, and the worry that he was in over his head. He sucked in a quavering breath and held it. 

_“_ Suga. _Kōshi.”_

Suga exhaled in surprise at Daichi's uneasy face hovering inches above his. “Let’s stop,” he said, concern etched in the place between his brows. 

They hadn’t made it very far, but Suga felt strangely bereft when Daichi pulled out before he’d finished speaking. Frowning, he shook his head and answered, “I don’t want to.”

“But you seem really tense.” The bigger man looked unconvinced, hanging above him, unsure. “If it doesn’t feel good—“

“It feels different,” Suga interjected, a quick allowance that he hoped would provide the insight Daichi needed, “and I got nervous, but it doesn’t mean I want to stop. I know what stop feels like and this isn’t it.” 

The tension in Daichi’s face lessened, but he still maintained his cautious stance. “You’re sure?” he probed, eyes searching. 

When his thumb brushed along Suga’s cheek, across the mark near his eye, he nuzzled into the touch with a sighed, “I want to keep going, and you know I won’t hesitate to tell you if I change my mind.”

That drew a weak chuckle from the other man. He tried to drop a chaste kiss on Suga’s lips only for Suga to steady his face between his hands and deepen it, dragging the man’s bottom lip between his teeth before he released him entirely. The reluctant arousal the action caused made Daichi just look pouty. “You better,” he growled. 

Suga chuckled, flicked his gaze between them and let one hand follow suit. A shudder wracked Daichi’s frame as Suga cupped at him, stroking gently before gliding north, around his length. With an impressive, single-handed deftness, Daichi retrieved and upended the bottle of lube into Suga’s hand. A few more strokes had him slick and hard once more; Suga met his eyes and nodded. 

This time, when an anxious vice threatened the integrity of his ribs, Suga gave a measured inhale, exhale, and allowed himself to marvel at the growing fullness as Daichi eased into him inch by inch. A strangled groan burst from Daichi’s lips, parted, panting Suga’s name like a prayer. The tips of Suga’s fingers dug crescents into the other man’s shoulders, while in turn one of Daichi’s sturdy hands bit into the back of the thigh hitched around his waist. And after the span of a few breaths, they shared a moan as their hips met. 

Emotion- warm, _freeing-_ flooded Suga in a rush. He bit back a smile, lightness in his chest, and met his partner’s expectant gaze. “Are you good?” Daichi blurted.

“I’m good,” Suga assured, covering his mouth and the wide grin growing there. A small reposition of Daichi’s hips against him and he added with a groan, “You feel good.”

A look somewhere between relief and need alighted on Daichi’s face, the latter growing more prominent with every inch he pulled back out. A whine was ripped from Suga’s throat- a breathy thing he’d never heard from himself before- when Daichi reached the apex of his withdrawal, only to become a sharp, short gasp when he pushed his way back in. 

Fumbling, Suga’s hands found purchase at the back of Daichi’s head and pulled him down in a sloppy kiss. “Kōshi, you- fuck, you’re perfect,” Daichi groaned against his lips, the simple, broken words filling Suga’s chest to bursting with the earnest way they were spoken. Even as he held Suga beneath him in steady arms, there was a wildfire in his unfocused brown eyes. “I wanted you, too,” he confided, another thrust- a little faster- accompanying his words. “Feels so good—”

Suga arched, the pressure in him forcing another gasp from his lungs, wordless pleasure that punctuated what little space there was between them as Daichi rocked into him again. Again, and, “Oh, Daichi, like _that,”_ broke free from Suga’s mouth when the angle was just right, the speed, the pressure, and Daichi moved in earnest at his plea. There was an instinctual rhythm into which they fell. Suga found his eyes transfixed at the place they joined, separated, rejoined on the sheen of sweat across Daichi’s muscles coiled beneath his hands, on his own cock that begged for attention in a way he couldn’t ignore any longer. The perfect, pounding pace of Daichi’s hips stalled when Suga started to stroke himself; he couldn’t help the affronted mewl that escaped him. 

Daichi hated to disappoint. 

With an answering growl he sat back just long enough to throw Suga’s legs over his shoulders before he drove back into him. The heat and weight of Daichi’s body pinned Suga’s thighs to his chest, but it was the sudden new depth of his cock bearing down inside him that had a surprised, “Oh, _fuck!”_ clawing its way from Suga’s throat. 

Daichi grinned feral down at him as he resumed the sweet rhythm Suga craved. “Keep touching yourself,” he ordered, the words almost slurred falling from his panting mouth. When Suga wedged his hand back into place around the leaking length of himself, a stream of curses, affirmations followed with the erratic thrusts of Daichi’s hips so deep inside him. It was hot, so _hot,_ being the one to rip all of Daichi’s self-control to shreds. “Suga- fuck, yes,” Daichi moaned, “let me feel you come—”

There was electricity in his abdomen, in his chest, behind his eyes. Suga was only vaguely aware of the high-pitched cries he sobbed, too consumed by the pulsing sparks under his skin. It only took a few moments for him to surrender entirely. The shockwaves of his orgasm tore through him, rendering him blind and breathless as he spilled hot and white over his hand and chest. He whimpered for his partner, “Daichi, _Daichi—”_ as his vision cleared to the image of the other man’s face twisted in desperation. “Please, Daichi,” Suga begged.

Daichi’s eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted in a silent moan as he followed Suga over the edge. His hips hammered unevenly as he came, stopping altogether after a few thrusts to let his twitching cock spend inside him. Chest heaving, Daichi whimpered Suga’s name as he came down, as his breath slowed. One of his trembling hands caressed Suga’s flushed face, the lust-filled haze in his brown eyes replaced with something Suga thought might be adoration. It brought a wobbly smile to his lips that Daichi mirrored. 

Then Daichi pushed himself to his knees and pulled out, the act drawing a soft whine from Suga’s throat. A moment later, mess be damned, he collapsed to his side and threw a heavy arm over the smaller man’s waist. “Suga,” he sighed, a blissful smile working its way onto his face. “Sugaaaa.” 

“Daichiiii,” Suga giggled, though he understood exactly where he was coming from: his own thoughts felt warm and mushy in the afterglow. Contented, their fingers traced patterns in each other’s skin as their lips met in a languid kiss. When they came to an organic pause, Suga bit back a cheeky smile to ask, “Is it weird for you if I say thank you?”

Daichi sputtered a laugh. “Only if the follow up question is, ‘How much do I owe you?’”

“Ah, damn.” 

Daichi shoved his shoulder then cut off Suga’s snickering with another kiss. The lazy kiss they’d enjoyed earlier began to disappear, replaced with heat when Suga’s tongue briefly passed the threshold of Daichi’s lips.

Until Daichi dragged Suga into his chest and was reminded of the sticky, cooling mess now smeared across them both. Suga laughed at his disgruntled expression and offered an insincere, “Whoops.”

“Hm, you won’t be laughing in a minute,” the devil grumbled. 

Suga popped a quizzical brow to which Daichi said nothing, merely gesturing toward the bathroom. With a satisfied groan, Suga rolled to his feet, and his smug expression became a look of horror the moment he stood upright and gravity began to work. “Let’s go shower,” he blurted, voice high. 

Daichi smirked and followed a few admiring steps behind, though he caught up once Suga shot a glare in his direction. “If it’s any help at all, it’s kinda hot,” he confessed, propping his chin on Suga’s shoulder so his warm breath on his ear elicited a little shiver. 

The flush in his cheeks deepened. In an attempt to salvage his dignity, Suga huffed, “Or maybe you’re just a perv.”

Unperturbed, Daichi’s offered, “We can switch if you want to judge for yourself.”

The easy way in which he offered only made Suga groan his defeat as he reached for the shower handle. Daichi was either correct or Suga was just as lewd, since the mental image it produced alone was enough to make Suga’s spent cock attempt to twitch to life. “I’ll hold you to it,” he muttered, dropping onto the shower stool and turning the spray of water on himself. 

A flick of his wrist and Daichi sat across from him on a second stool that hadn’t been there before. Even after the teasing, his eyes were soft around the edges as he took the water and soap from Suga’s hands and inched closer. “Daichi—“

“Please?” 

Despite his embarrassment at the mess dripping down his legs and stomach, Suga allowed Daichi to scrub him clean, then returned the favor with the same care. They curled together in the bath until Daichi looked a little too drowsy for Suga’s liking. He dragged Daichi from the hot water and threw a fluffy towel at him. The man’s protests ceased when Suga innocently asked, “Can I wish for a second time before bed?” 

Neither of them were fully dry when Daichi scooped him over his shoulder and marched back into the bedroom with renewed energy. A wild fit of laughter erupted from Suga’s chest as he bounced against the mattress where Daichi tossed him. Moments later the other man joined, this time mess free as his fingers traced the line of Suga’s abdomen up the center of his body before curling loosely around his chin. The kiss he left on Suga’s mouth- promising and heated, his tongue darting across his lips- effectively silenced his giggles. “I’m happy to fulfill this particular wish whenever you want,” he said, voice husky. 

“Ooh, whenever I want?” Suga mused. 

“Mmhm.”

“Breakfast, lunch and dinner?”

Daichi’s eyes gleamed. “If you think you can handle it.” 

“Thirty minute lunch break at work?” 

“Raunchy, but okay.” 

“While you’re gaming with your friends?”

A grin quirked at the corner of Daichi’s mouth. “As long as my mic is muted.”

“Boo, where’s the fun in that?” Suga exclaimed. “What if we were in the middle of a fancy dinner party where we’ve been wearing sexy suits and teasing each other all day and I ask you to sneak out to do it in someone’s bathroom?”

Now the devil looked like he could barely contain a laugh. “That’s very specific, but I’m in.” 

“Great, because I just so happen to have a fancy dinner party next weekend and the fine china makes me unbelievably horny.”

Daichi made a noise somewhere between a groan, a snort and a laugh, which in turn made Suga laugh so hard every time he looked at him for five minutes that he cried.

When he could finally breathe and look at his partner without giggling, Suga took a deep breath, the mischief in his face dwindling. “I do have something else to ask for your help on,” he admitted, turning his searching gaze toward Daichi’s strong and steady hand that rested in the space between them. “Not as fun as sex whenever we want, but important.” 

Daichi appeared taken aback at the change in pace. As patient and understanding as ever, though, he curled his fingers around Suga’s and murmured, “Whatever it is, I’ll do everything I can.” 

Suga tugged Daichi a little closer, taking comfort in the warmth radiating from his skin. Everything about the other man was steadying. Stable, reassuring. He inhaled and sighed, “I don’t know if I should go back to work next school year. I love the kids but I want to be able to fill that time with other things. What do you think?”

Daichi hummed thoughtfully. The vibration of the noise buzzed pleasantly in Suga’s chest. “I think that would be a good idea,” Daichi said. “Because what if you try to cram in all these experiences into your weekends and school falls by the wayside? Or you miss out on things you really want to do because you’re working? I think you’d feel bad if something like that happened.” 

“Isn’t it selfish?” Suga pressed, even as relief loosened the tension between his shoulders at the answer. 

“No, and doing things for yourself isn’t inherently selfish,” the other man asserted. For a moment he hesitated, then gave a soft shake of his head and a tiny laugh. “Actually, _I_ feel selfish saying this, but I’m kind of excited that I’ll have you around more often. N-not that I’d expect you to spend all your time with me!” he added quickly. 

Suga tittered. “Don’t feel selfish. I want to spend as much time with you- and my friends- as possible,” he admitted. “I don’t want to miss out on the time I have left with the people I care about. Which includes my students, but, well, it’ll be easier to quit before I get attached to a new batch.” 

With an affirming hum, Daichi snuggled into Suga’s chest so that the smaller man was forced to nestle his chin in the midst of messy brown hair. “I know you like your job. Maybe you can pop in occasionally, volunteer your time for things. Make a big donation and have a bench named after you.”

“Mm, you’re so smart.” 

Daichi winked. “Whatever you want to do, we’ll make it happen.” He bit a kiss into the skin of Suga’s collarbones and murmured, “That doesn’t seem so impossible to handle. Was there anything else?”

Unconsciously, Suga traced circles into Daichi’s back with loose fingers during his quiet search for words. “Yeah, I… want to try to talk to my mom,” Suga muttered. 

Daichi stopped his attempts to mark Suga’s chest, his grip around him tightening protectively. “Oh, Suga. But you said she—“

“I know. I at least want to tell her something about why I won’t be contacting her anymore, even if she won’t care. But maybe she will, you know?”

Still cuddled against him, Daichi quietly squeezed him tight. When he peered up after extricating himself just a little from Suga’s chest, he wore a look, soft and serious. “You don’t owe anything to people who hurt you,” he reminded him, brushing aside the silvery bangs that had fallen over Suga’s forehead. “If that’s what you want to do, though, I’m with you.” 

The idea made Suga’s terminal heart race. Until he could trust his voice, he peppered grateful kisses across Daichi’s face and reveled in the safety he granted. “It’s only because you’re with me,” Suga replied, the straightforward sentiment foreign in his mouth, “that I think I can do either of these things.” 

Daichi’s lips split in a happy grin, and he caressed Suga’s cheek in a move so tender that it saw the smaller man flush. It was almost too much, the affectionate air. Daichi must have sensed it too because his eyes crinkled with mirth at Suga’s growing restlessness and he teased, “You like me, nerd.”

“I- not anymore,” Suga huffed, grinning.

“ _Nerd.”_

It didn’t take much more than that for their soft teasing to dissolve into laughter, and for the way laughter moved their bodies to become something else.

## MONTH 19

There was a red envelope on the nightstand on Daichi’s side of the bed when he awoke. In all of his time working as a devil he’d only ever received one. As simple as it was, the message was unmistakable: they were sent by the boss when an employee needed to come in outside of regularly scheduled meetings. They meant trouble. Daichi rolled over to grab it, eased it open, and considered whether or not he should tell Suga. It was a passing thought. He knew he would tell him after all of the work they’d done just to get to this point, but it was tempting if only to keep Suga from worrying. 

He glanced to his left where, despite the late morning, his contractor was still asleep. Since their confession talk, they’d spent the weekends retracing all steps they’d skipped. They were dating from square one, relearning each other in a different context. It was a lot of fun, because it meant Daichi got to flex his powers to spoil Suga in a way he didn’t do for himself. Suga might complain and cite being too old for romance, but the smallest acts brought such a look of wonder to his face that Daichi couldn’t resist. He loved showing up with flowers or dinner reservations or the words, “Pack a suitcase,” for the sheer awe it brought. 

For 500 years, Daichi hadn’t let anyone close. There had been friends and plenty of casual sex, but there had never been anything like Sugawara Kōshi. Suga, who was patient enough to chip away at boundaries that Daichi didn’t even realize existed, who made it so easy not to hide or overthink. 

At least, not until that envelope appeared. It served as a reminder that Daichi could not avoid the consequences of his actions forever. 

“Suga,” he whispered, tracing the spaces between the freckles on Suga’s shoulder. Suga stirred, rolled, and squinted against the bright room, confused until his eyes landed on Daichi. He hoped the slow smile that never failed to overtake Suga’s face when he looked at him first thing after waking never stopped. “Hey,” Daichi grinned in return, the red envelope forgotten just for a moment. “Good morning.” 

“G’morning,” Suga sighed. “Time is it?”

“10:45.” 

Suga whined, “Why did you let me sleep so long?” as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

“Because that’s what weekends are for,” Daichi said, brushing some of Suga’s silvery hair back into place. “Also I only just woke up a few minutes ago.” 

The other man giggled then slipped his sneaky fingers beneath Daichi’s shirt as he pulled him closer. He shivered when Suga’s lips found the side of his neck in a kiss much too fiery for having just woken up. Daichi wanted to oblige, felt the answering interest stir in his stomach, but before he let himself become too carried away he managed between kisses, “Ah, Suga. Today, I have to… go into the office. For a meeting.”

 _That_ certainly made the other man pause. Suga inched away and his worried hazel eyes met Daichi’s. “What kind of meeting?” he asked. 

He wanted to offer a white lie, to say, ‘It’s just a routine quarterly,’ in hopes of erasing the tight expression on Suga’s face. However, as he had learned, it only caused more anxiety for his partner when he withheld things. Suga would probably see through it in a heartbeat anyway, and the trust Daichi had earned would be shaken. He forced himself to proffer the red envelope for Suga’s inspection. “We get these when the boss wants to talk,” he explained as Suga pulled out the appointment card nestled within, “so I’m thinking I might be about to get in trouble.” 

Suga’s eyes went wide. “You have to meet with _The_ Devil?” Daichi had already memorized the details embossed on the little cardstock square: _Performance Review, 2:00pm, 13th floor_. There was only one very large office that occupied floor thirteen. 

“Yeeeah. It’s usually not good when the boss calls you into the office, right?”

“Not usually, no,” Suga muttered, flipping the plain card over for more information and finding none. He slid it back into the envelope and handed it back frowning. “Are you…” Suga paused and sucked in a slow breath. Daichi waited. There was a fearful tremble in his thin voice when Suga exhaled, “Are you coming back?”

With a comforting noise Daichi pulled Suga to his chest. “Absolutely,” he said, cheek pressed into Suga’s hair. Along his back Suga dug his fingers, holding Daichi tight. “Even if I am in trouble, there’s a protocol to follow, just like any job. It’d just be a warning. I’m not getting fired or anything. It’s not going to be enough to keep me away.” 

Suga relaxed a little, the muscles in his arms and back going loose under Daichi’s hands. He lifted his head from under the weight of Daichi’s chin and cast a searching look his way. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Daichi soothed. “You’re worth a bit of trouble.” He threw a wink in for good measure. 

“What even was that?” the blond snorted. 

“It was a reassuring wink!”

“I thought you were having a stroke.”

Daichi dug his fingers into Suga’s sides; Suga yelped and kicked him. 

***

The corporate office of hell was a beautiful, sprawling campus nestled in between dimensions. Unlike actual Hell, the corporate office was just like any office park: trees, grass, sunny sky. Everyone got a real office, some even with a window. Whole floors were dedicated to different tasks with the top floor, number thirteen, being reserved for the boss. Daichi adjusted his tie in the mirror of his 4th floor office already dreading the long elevator ride he would take in- he checked his watch- fifteen minutes. 

“So why’re _you_ getting called in for a performance review out of nowhere, Mr. Perfect?” 

Daichi quit fiddling with his perfectly tied tie and sighed at his friend whose gangly legs were sprawled across Daichi’s chair and desk. “I don’t know, Kuroo,” he retorted. “Get your giant feet off my desk!”

His unfairly tall friend folded his legs, steepled his fingers under his angular chin and smirked, “Did you have a ‘policy violation’ with Hot Contractor?” Kuroo was the type who was too smart for his own good and used it, Daichi felt, solely to harass him. 

“It’s _not_ about Suga.” 

“He has a _real_ nickname now? You’re not supposed to give names to the animals.” 

Daichi turned and punched Kuroo’s shoulder; he wasn’t as gentle as he could have been. “I know you don’t even believe that, so quit trying to piss me off,” he growled. 

Kuroo grumbled a curse and rubbed his shoulder. “Alright, damn. Well, if it’s not because of Suga the Hot Contractor, are your numbers bad? You need a vacation or something, Sawamura?” 

“My numbers are fine.” 

“Come oooon! That means something is up with Hot Contractor.” 

Far too nervous about the upcoming meeting, Daichi tapped his foot, whined, then caved. He buried his face in his hands and sank onto what little chair space was available. “Ugh, yeah it is. I’m a bad liar.” 

Kuroo threw an around him and cooed, “I know, bud. You aren’t gonna be able to lie in this meeting, you know that right? Your best bet is to do that polite non-answer that you’re good at.” He mimed a serious face as he said, “Did you have sex with your contractor, Mr. Sawamura?” then adopted an unflattering imitation of Daichi’s voice as he replied, “Sir, I’ll have you know I’m a giant prude.” 

“I’ll fucking murder you.” 

Kuroo broke into a cackle that Daichi didn’t join. When it was clear Daichi was too anxious for jokes, Kuroo pet his hair in a placating manner and fell quiet. They sat squeezed into the office chair for another moment before Kuroo cleared his throat and offered, “You’ve got a few minutes if you wanna tell me what’s really up with your guy. A sex scandal doesn’t account for much these days.” 

It was true, _if_ it was just sex. He’d had sex- on a spectrum of willing to unenthusiastic- with several contractors in the past with no repercussion. Aside from a healthy amount of disgust (towards his clients or himself, he hadn’t quite unpacked yet), there had never been any actual feelings involved. It’s what made this relationship with Suga so incredibly precious- and terrifying. Digging his hands further into his eyes, Daichi groaned, “I’m in love with him.” 

Kuroo snorts, “Haha, you…” but when Daichi didn’t offer a, ‘Just kidding,’ Kuroo’s grip on his arm tightened almost painfully. “You, you _what_? Sawamura, what the— why!” The chair groaned as Kuroo peeled himself from the cramped space to kneel and sandwich Daichi’s face between both their hands. “Don’t be stupid! You can’t be in- in _love_! You’re never gonna be able to finish the contract! That’s bad!”

Face squished, Daichi frowned a little harder. “I’m aware that it’s not ideal,” he said, jerking out of Kuroo’s grip. “It’s not like I planned this.” His saying so did little to assuage his friend’s anxiety. Kuroo began rifling his fingers through his unruly black hair, but the natural caretaker in him reacted with a sense of calm. He stood, placed both hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, and said, “Look. Whatever you’re thinking: I’ve already thought it. I’ve been over it a thousand times. I’ll figure something out, but in the meantime, it’s business as usual. I’m not signing his contract over to someone else.” 

“But you could get fired!”

Daichi clapped Kuroo on the arm. “Maybe, but not today. Listen, I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve gotta get going,” he said, checking his hair and tie one last time in the mirror. “You can hide out here if you want. I know you like the view. Just keep your feet on the floor.” 

Still frowning, Kuroo collapsed back into Daichi’s chair. “Fine, but let me know how it goes,” he muttered as he made himself comfortable. He offered Daichi what was supposed to be a cheeky grin except it didn’t make it to his eyes. “Unless you really do get fired, then we were never friends.” 

Daichi flipped him off as he shut the door behind him. It was nice of Kuroo to check on him, even if it was partly out of nosiness, and his anxiety gave Daichi a chance to regain his own composure. While he wouldn’t say he felt confident as he made his way to the elevator, he was serene, at least. There wasn’t anything he could do to change things now. He thought about what he’d told Kuroo about the situation and his cheeks grew warm. Technically, those three words hadn’t been said yet, but it didn’t make them less true for him. He shook the thought from his head as the elevator dinged, nodded at the woman exiting, then pressed the button for floor thirteen. 

When he exited into the floor foyer, Daichi sucked in a breath and approached the receptionist, a tailor-dressed person of no discernible gender sitting at an expansive glass desk. They glanced up from their computer with an impassive stare when Daichi held out the appointment card for them. “Sawamura Daichi,” he introduced as they took the card in a perfectly manicured hand. They checked their computer, then in a flick of their wrist the appointment card vanished. 

“If you’d wait just a moment, Mr. Sawamura,” they said as they pressed a finger to the bud in their ear and informed, “Your 2pm is here, sir.” He knew it was coming, but still he started when the receptionist redirected their serious gaze on him and stepped out from behind the desk. The echo of their shoes on the glossy black floor seemed far too loud to his ears. “Right this way, Mr. Sawamura,” they said, motioning for him to follow. It was only a few steps past reception, but the double glass doors loomed impossibly tall when Daichi paused for the receptionist who nudged them open with the barest effort. The composure he’d managed to build up splintered, but Daichi forced himself to stand tall as he trailed the receptionist into the office. 

The office of The Devil boasted the sleek and modern vibes of the rest of the building: glass and wood, sharp angles, leather seats and natural light. Everyone could decorate how they liked, and Daichi never failed to be surprised by the welcoming aura of the boss’s workspace. The floor was divided into several rooms, but the primary was warm and sunny, the walls sprinkled with landscape paintings that spanned eras. Plants dotted the office with color, and the black tile floor eventually disappeared under a plush rug. 

All of this, however, was not quite enough to eliminate the foreboding Daichi felt when he locked eyes with the imposing figure at the desk on the other end of the room. 

“Daichi!” The Devil exclaimed with a smile. “Long time no see. Come in, have a seat.”

He glanced back at the sound of the receptionist’s retreating steps, then Daichi pushed forward across the office. Like Kuroo suggested, he would just have to hedge his answers about Suga as best as possible. There was no outright lying to The Devil. He unbuttoned his coat and sat in the deceptively comfortable leather chair across the desk from his boss with a polite, “Thank you, sir.” 

Objectively, he looked friendly, The Devil did. Charming, even. He was always of middling age, handsome, thin and tall in a crisp black suit, at least, he was every time Daichi saw him. The salt-and-pepper hair on his face and head was trimmed and styled in an unassuming way. He had a quick smile and sharp, grey eyes which gave Daichi a once over. “Well, no need to be so formal. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain.”

The Devil waited for further. When it was apparent there was nothing more coming, he rolled his eyes and reclined back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “That’s it? All right, I can take a hint. Let’s get on with this performance review, shall we?” He unwound, propped an elbow against his desk, and clicked open a new screen on his computer that Daichi couldn’t see. “Okay, Daichi. You’ve got some of the most seniority here at the company. 503 years.”

Daichi nodded, easing his hands which clenched at his slacks. It was putting him too at ease that this was beginning like any regular performance review. Maybe it was, and the timing was a coincidence? Except, no, he couldn’t shake the notion that the other shoe just hadn’t dropped yet. They’d only just started; he couldn’t let the atmosphere of the room get to him. 

“You look to be on track for your ten year quota.” 

“Yes.” 

“And no complaints in- 134 years.”

“...Yes.”

“Say, Daichi. Do you like the work you do here?” The Devil asked. 

Daichi frowned. This was a deviation from the normal questioning, which meant he was right. Which also begged the question of how he was supposed to answer this diplomatically. “It’s… fine, yeah. Overall it’s fine,” he offered cautiously. “It has its moments, but I think it’s been fine.” When his boss said nothing, merely met his gaze in silence, Daichi began to fidget. Did he say fine too many times? Not enough times? “Um, why?” 

The devil sighed and redirected his gaze to his computer. He wore a pensive expression that lent years to his face. “I just wonder what’s made you stay this long. Everyone is eligible for a full retirement at 350.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I can’t beat the benefits.”

The Devil rolled his eyes back towards him and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve worked here this long because of the benefits? C’mon man. How about this: would you say you believe in this on some level? Like there’s an intrinsic reward to doing this.” 

Daichi shifted his gaze to his lap and tried to appear casual despite the sweat beading along his neck. It _could_ be satisfying, at times, knowing he’d gotten some piece of absolute human garbage on the hook at least in the afterlife. It made granting their wishes more palatable, certainly, but if he was in it for that alone he would have switched to Torture or Corrections. “Sure, I suppose,” he said, trying to see the angle at which his boss was approaching. 

He was thrown a curve ball when The Devil clicked his tongue with a disappointed shake of his head, then changed the subject. “You remember dying right?” he asked.

Blinking back his surprise, Daichi replied, “Of course. Hard to forget something like that.” It was true, though the details were hazy. He had been insanely ill at the time: a modern lens suggested he’d won the lottery of being overworked and malnourished when he contracted what he was pretty sure was the plain old flu. Even if he didn’t recall the finer points of shivering to death in bed, he remembered how it felt, physically and emotionally. The righteous indignation had burned as hot as his fever. He didn’t regret working hard, or taking care of his family, but he'd done it all at his own expense. Never once had he gotten something in return, and it was a selfish thought he only entertained as he died. 

“When I came to you and told you who I was, you basically told me to eat a dick. Remember that?”

Daichi cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that, sir. I was pretty delirious.” 

“You may as well own it. That’s why I offered you a job instead of letting you die,” The Devil explained. There was something calculating about his expression, his voice, that made Daichi feel pinned to his seat. “Most people get _more_ pious on their deathbeds because they’re scared. I like a bit of... _honesty_. Everyone who has ever worked for me gave me an answer I liked. You were honest then, so you got a job.”

There was something ironic there, about The Devil appreciating honesty, but Daichi was too off-kilter to savor it. “I, um. Well, I was dying,” he fumbled, gaining traction the longer he talked, “and you told me I could have everything I never got to have if I came and worked for you.” He swiped his sweaty palms along his slacks. “Anyone would say yes to that.”

A shrewd look overtook the boss’s eyes and he leaned in across his desk. “So you could say you’ve stayed so long not for the benefits or the intrinsic reward, but because you think there’s still something you haven’t gotten.” 

The statement was innocuous enough, a little presumptive even, but still a shiver went down Daichi‘s spine. He had the impression that somehow he’d said too much. He pressed his mouth into a tight line and gave a curt shrug. The Devil seemed unfazed by Daichi’s sudden reticence. “Let’s continue to talk honestly, alright Daichi? I want to ask you about your current contract,” his boss continued with a glance at the computer screen. “Sugawara Kōshi. This is a big contract, very involved.”

“Yes.” 

“And you took it for-“ another glance at the computer, this time with a wry smile- “‘a first kiss meant for someone else and assorted liquor.’” 

“...Yes.”

The Devil slid his gaze back to Daichi. “I noticed you’ve been logging an inordinate amount of time into research on canceling contracts.” 

_Ah._

With a resigned grimace, Daichi shifted in his seat and stared out the window past his boss. His pulse thrummed in his temple; he didn’t say anything but his reaction was an answer enough. Strangely, the thoughtful softening of his boss’s face returned as he scrolled through Suga’s file in silence. “He isn’t our usual clientele, is he?” he admitted finally. “And you’ve always had such a strong belief in what is and isn’t just. Intrinsic reward and all that.” 

“Can you cancel it?” Daichi blurted. He gripped the chair arms so tight the leather squeaked and still he thought it didn’t drown the thundering of his heart. “Can you cancel Suga’s contract?” 

The Devil regarded him for a long, quiet moment. “I’m sorry Daichi,” he apologized, “but I won’t set that kind of precedent.” 

“That’s b—“ Daichi cut himself off with a strangled noise before he said something that really got him in trouble. He realized he’d come halfway out of his seat, forced himself to breathe and sit. Not trusting himself to speak, he once more redirected his sullen glare to the window. 

“Why, after 503 years,” the boss asked softly, “are we having this talk? You’ve never once gotten attached to a contractor.”

What could he say to that? Sugawara Kōshi hadn’t been planned, and neither was falling for him. There wasn’t even a singular reason he could give that would satisfy the question. He wouldn’t tell his boss it was for the way Suga laughed, or how he looked in the Hawaiian sun, or how, even with the ability to do and ask for everything he wanted, he still chose to be a good and thoughtful person. That Daichi liked the way he continued to go to work because he loved his students and his job, no matter what he might say, or that he made it okay for Daichi to want things for himself too. Aware of his boss’s unwavering gaze, Daichi opened his mouth, shut it, held his eyes closed for a steadying breath. “I guess I found what I really wanted,” he answered finally, honestly. 

His boss gave a short nod, a regretful smile on his face. “Are you going to be able to finish this contract?” 

“It’s my contract. I’ll see it through,” Daichi asserted. 

Raising a dubious eyebrow, the boss pleaded, “You’re a great employee, Daichi. I’d rather see you roll over the contract to someone else than have to suspend or fire you down the line.” 

They would have to pry Suga’s contract from his cold, dead hands. “I can finish the contract,” Daichi repeated with more force than needed. 

“You know the consequences right? Suspended if you roll it over after a third warning. Fired if you refuse to collect at the end of his contract. Can you honestly tell me you’ll be able to bring in the soul of someone you care about? Daichi, if you get fired I’ll have to treat you like all the other people who come in through the system. All the time you’ve put in will only help so much.”

“But it will help.” 

“I mean, you won’t get reincarnated as a snail, so, yeah I guess it helps some,” the boss shrugged. “But it won’t help your contractor. He’s already signed off his soul.” 

The same sort of calm he felt when Kuroo had been panicking washed over him. Daichi nodded his head once in understanding. “Then don’t worry about the contract,” he said. “I’ll finish it. I won’t give it to someone else.” He didn’t know if that were true or not, but he believed with enough conviction that he would rather die than turn over the contract that his boss seemed to accept it 

The Devil rubbed his temples and sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing. Consider this warning number one for your file. I’ll have to monitor your progression for the remainder of the contract and we’ll have another review in six months. No more missteps, Daichi. Please.”

“Of course, sir. Should I see myself out?”

The Devil stood and gestured towards the door. With his chin high, Daichi buttoned his coat and had begun to walk when he heard an exasperated sigh. 

“Damn it. Daichi, wait.” 

Daichi turned expectantly, only to find the boss with his hands in his pockets, staring out the window. “Just out of curiosity,” The Devil started, “when was the last time you read the SOPs for the Purgatory team?”

The calm Daichi was experiencing faded into unadulterated confusion. “Um, never?” he answered, more question than statement. Purgatory was totally out of his purview and it wasn’t as if he’d ever lost a… soul...

The Devil glanced his way, face impassive. “You probably want to cover all your bases, then. It’s good reading material. Have a nice day.”

Daichi’s heart skipped a bewildered beat. Despite being unable to school his face into something resembling professional, Daichi met his boss’s gaze until the man raised an eyebrow which spurred him into action. After a mute, enthusiastic nod, he all but ran from the office and back to the elevator, steps echoing with renewed optimism.

When Daichi burst back into his office, Kuroo nearly kicked the computer monitor off the desk in his haste to put his feet on the floor. “You son of a bitch,” Daichi growled, eyes narrowed to slits as he ripped his tie loose. 

Kuroo averted his eyes to the ceiling, a nervous smirk on his lips. “Okay, so—“

Daichi held up a fist in a threat for silence that his gangly friend acknowledged. “I’ll pretend I never saw your nasty shoes on my desk if you can figure how to get me in touch with an angel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Devil looks like Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://kittytoastnjam.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kittytoastnjam)


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